


Mortimer

by fangirl2013, orphan_account



Category: The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses (2016), The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Battle list. Chapter two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 91
Words: 131,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl2013/pseuds/fangirl2013, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the view of Edward IV the Wars of the Roses are retold</p><p>I want to thank MichisAccount for the continual support and guidance on historical mattes. to thank my fiancé for listening to my rants. And my readers. For reading, without you this story wouldn't work</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Character list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is a summary of characters 
> 
> Please note two things within this story.
> 
> Firstly, whilst I am sticking mostly by the facts, I am writing this story as part of a larger personal project. For very personal reasons I am introducing specific symptoms and expeirences to Edward's character there is not evidence he would ever have experienced, equally there is no evidence he did not. They are not contradictory to what we know of him
> 
> Secondly. I post within some of the notes and chapter descriptions lyrics of songs I listened to when writing chapters. Ignore these or read them your choice.

  
Character List:

**The House of York ( <1460): **

Richard Plantagenet Duke of York - Edward's father, referred to as many names.  
  
Cecily Neville - Edward's mother **  
**

Richard "Dickon" Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester - Edward's youngest brother

George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence - Edward's brother (who I am thankful to for having a different name)

Edmund Plantagenet, Earl of Rutland - Edward's brother

Margaret Plantagenet, Duchess of Burgundy - Edward's sister

Anne Plantagenet, Duchess of Exeter - Edward's sister, married to a Lancastrian

Elizabeth 'Liza' Plantagenet, Duchess of Suffolk - Edward's sister

 

**Edward and Elizabeth's Children:**

Princess Elizabeth 'Bess' Plantagenet - Edward's oldest daughter by Elizabeth Woodville  
  
Princess Mary Plantagenet  
  
Princess Cecily Plantagenet   
  
Prince Edward 'Ed' Plantagenet

Princess Margaret Plantagenet 

Prince Richard Plantagenet   
  
Princess Anne Plantagenet 

Prince George Plantagenet   
  
Princess Catherine Plantagenet 

Princess Bridget Plantagenet 

 

**The Nevilles:**

Richard "Dick" Neville, Earl of Warwick - Edward's cousin

Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury - Edward's uncle, Warwick's father

John Neville - Edward's cousin and younger brother to the Earl of Warwick

George 'Bishop' Neville, Bishop of Exeter and Archbishop of York - Warwick and John's younger brother

Anne Neville - Warwick's daughter

Isobel Neville - Warwick's daughter  
  
Katherine Hastings nee Neville - William Lord Hastings wife, Warwick's sister  
  


 

**The Woodvilles:**

Richard Woodville - Edward's Father-in-Law  
  
Jacquetta Woodville - Edward's Mother-in-Law  
  
Elizabeth Woodville - Edward's wife  
  
Anthony Woodville  
  
Edward Woodville  
  
John Woodville  
  
Catherine Woodville, Duchess of Buckingham.   
  


**The Beauforts:**  
  
Edmund Beaufort (Duke of Somerset) - before 1455  
  
Henry Beaufort (Duke of Somerset) - 1455 - 1464  
  
Edmund Beaufort (Duke of Somerset) - 1464 - 1471

Margaret Beaufort 

 

**The Lancastrians:**

Margeurite of Anjou

Henry Plantagenet - Henry VI

Edouard Plantagenet, Prince of Wales

 

**Edward's Mistresses:**  
  


Elizabeth Lucy - Edward's second mistress, mother of <2 of his illegitimate childre ('the williest')

Elizabeth 'Jane' Shore - Edward's third, final and most famous mistress ('the merriest')

Eleanor Butler nee Talbot - Edward's first mistress  
  


**Edward's Illegitimate Children:**

 

Grace Plantagenet - Edward's oldest, illegitimate daughter (mother. Elizabeth Lucy)

Arther Plantagenet - Edward's oldest, illegitimate son (mother. Elizabeth Lucy)

 

 **The Tudors:**  
  
Owen Tudor  
  
Jasper Tudor  
  
Henry Tudor

 

**Other Notable characters:**

 

William 'Will' Lord Hastings - Lord Chamberlain of England.  
  
William Herbert

Thomas Bourchier - Archbishop of Canterbury  
  
Bishop Stillington - Bishop of Bath and Wells   
  
  


Miscellanious:

Dr William Hobbes - Royal physician in the employment of Richard Duke of York and Edward IV, known for combining the practices of medicine and the barber surgeon (the foundation of surgery)r /> John Clerk - Royal Apothecary, employed from 1462  
Dr William Hattcliffe - Royal physician to Henry Vi and Edward IV  
Dr James Frise - Royal physician employed in 1461

Dr Dominic de Sergo - Venetian physician in the employment of Edward IV from 1466, likely at the birth of Elizabeth of York  
Dr John Argentine - royal physician to Edward V

 

 __*This list is by no means extensive. If I mention other characters and you want them on this list, think I have forgotten or want to know more about them, leave me a comment and I will see to adding them.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information taken from a variety of sources. 
> 
> Lang, T. (2010). Medical Recipes from the Yorkist Court. The Ricardian. 22, 94-102


	2. The Beginning of a War: The First Battle of St Albans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Head high, protest line  
> "Freedom" scribbled on your sign  
> Headline, New York Times  
> Standing on the edge of a revolution
> 
> Hey, hey, just obey.  
> Your secret's safe with the NSA  
> In God we trust or the CIA?  
> Standing on the edge of a revolution
> 
> Yeah, we're standing on the edge of a revolution  
> Revolution, revolution, revolution
> 
> No, we won't give up, we won't go away  
> 'Cause we're not about to live in this mass delusion  
> No, we don't wanna hear another word you say  
> 'Cause we know they're all depending on mass confusion  
> No, we can't turn back, we can't turn away  
> 'Cause it's time we all relied on the last solution  
> No, we won't lay down and accept this fate  
> 'Cause we're standing on the edge of a revolution"  
> (Edge of a Revolution, Nickelback)

CHAPTER ONE.

St Albans - 1455.

My heart pounded, thundered in my ears. Looking to my left I saw my father, sat upon his horse and looking straight ahead. No emotion on his features. To my right were my uncle and cousin, the Earls of Warwick and of Salisbury. The older of these men caught my eye and smiled, comforting and reassuring. His look said that everything would be fine, that there was no reason to fear. 

If only he knew. I was not scared, not fearful. My heart pounded not with nerves and anxiety but with excitement and anticipation. I was simply irritated that I did not present myself as father did; with the cool, gathered and collected appearance. None knew what he thought, how he felt. At just thirteen however, that was not yet to be expected. 

The lack of expectation did not serve to reduce my irritability nor my impatience. I was the youngest here, sat waiting. Unsure of what would happen. Unlike the others, I had not the experience nor skill to predict or know. The men around me gave mixed signals, some wanted to fight, some hoped for peace. My father, I was clueless. 

I myself hoped for victory. How could I not? This meeting was for my father's justice, so he could get what he deserved. He had been loyal to King Henry, had given all had, all he owed in love, care and money to our monarch. In return, he had faced bankruptcy, punishment and the threat of imprisonment. Whether or not this resulted in battle I did not care, so long as we saw a rain of glory. 

My mother did not want to fight. That was why I was here. According to my noble parents, the presence of a child would deter the fighting. It would show that my father did not want to fight.

I looked ahead, turning away from my uncle as I heard the commotion on the road ahead. The sound of hooves, of voices and of men in large numbers approaching with speed. 

I gulped, tightening my hands upon my reins, suddenly unhappy with the situation. I jumped as father's hand brushed my leg, and as my eyes met his, it was the first time I saw his emotions. He was as nervous as I, as out of place. "It will be fine son, hold strong." 

I nodded, returning to my position, looking forward with a steady, hard gaze. I would not flee, I would not show my men - or theirs - that I was nervous. 

The noise ahead stopped suddenly and once again the road was silent. Perhaps it was stupidity, naivity, but my belief was they had left, that they had fled; had given up. Of course, I was wrong. Papa sighed, dropping his reins in what I recognised to be frustration. His next exhaled breath came as a whistle. My uncle Salisbury glanced in his direction, seeing too my father's obvious frustration, his anger combined with his reluctance to fight and desire to avoid bloody conflict. 

They knew something I did not. Before we had left Ludlow I had been well informed. Cousin Warwick had informed me that for all my training I would not be prepared. Not to say the endless hours and countless bruises were in vein. No, but a Lancastrian army, the enemy were not my brother Rutland. They would not take pity when I cried. They would not stop for bloody knuckles. Like me they were trained to kill, only they held the desire and the experience which I was lacking. Although I did not know what to expect, I knew battle would be nothing like the training ring. Unlike the words of the crusaders, I knew blood would not taste sweet. 

It would be bitter, it would be ugly. 

"They are sending scouts." I heard my cousins deep voice, booming, authoritative as he squinted through the sun. I did not know how he could see that far, or if indeed he could see. No man had the knowledge of my cousin. Perhaps it was instinctive, quite often and to my confusion he just knew. As though he had a foresight. I looked to him, smiling, making a desperate attempt to keep the adoration, the admiration from my face. 

My lady mother had given me many a talk. Although it was natural that boys would have role models, young men could admire in secret. Warwick I knew would not tolerate my love. 

I felt my father tense beside me, hearing the clink of metal on metal, the right scrape against the leather before I saw him dismount, beginning a slow walk down the lane toward the now visible rider. I did not hear their words, only sat in anxious wait as they spoke at length. 

It was ten minutes before my father returned, running a hand through damp hair. He took hold of my reins. "Dismount." He muttered to me, irritation in his voice before he spoke loudly, addressing the men in a voice I scarcely recognised. He sounded nervous. "We wait, set up tents." He turned away then, walking toward the grass with determination, indicating I should follow. Soon we were joined by Warwick and Salisbury. 

It was my uncle who next spoke. "Richard?" He approached my father, touching his arm. I could not help but smile, for my uncle at that moment reminded me much of my lady mother. They had many a similarity. 

My father shrugged away Salisbury's hand, sighing deeply. When he next looked toward me I could see he was deeply troubled. "They will force my hand damn them." He fretted, walking toward me before turning away, looking toward the scores of men already working to set up camp. He continued then, his voice more quiet. Perhaps because he did not want to worry the men who may have to fight for us; men who had been promised there would be no treason, no bloodshed. "Not Henry, no. His Grace wishes not to fight. He is still confused from his illness is hardly fit to make this journey, let alone engage in battle. No Somerset will force him, and Northumberland. They hate me so." 

"Northumberland is there?" Warwick asked, over eager. His brown eyes now saddened, burning with and insane desire to fight. 

"Of course. Why would you have thought otherwise." Father's tone was course, harsh. I know he had never been one to like Warwick and the arrogance he carried. My cousin cared little if you were peasant or royalty, common man or a duke. Everyone was the same to him, he was always superior and etiquette be damned.

It was only then as my father gripped my arm, pulling me close so I could see the worry in his eyes aging his features too quickly. That was a harder prospect to face than the sudden certainty of battle. Harder still was the realisation of difference between my father and cousin. My father held no desire to fight today, nor I saw did Salisbury. My heart was torn, whilst I had always looked up to Warwick, looked forward to his trips to Ludlow, enjoyed his teachings and thought him - excepting Edmund - my closest and dearest friend, I had to acknowledge the older men's experience.

"Edward you must listen. Listen very carefully." He brought me back to him. "When battle starts you must go. You must be away from the field and safe, but do not stray too far. I cannot lose you." He sounded sincere and for the first time in my recollection, he sounded caring. The tone, his words brought me close to tears.

"If you were to lose the boy, my sister would have this battle seem like no more than a skirmish."

I was soon to learn that the many fights which had in days past commenced between myself and the Crofts would seem trivial in the midst of battle.

****

"Your Grace." It was three hours before the young man, adorned in King Henry's colours, came panting to us. By that time we stood in a tent, discussing possibilities and plans about which I was allowed no word. To be a child, to be less experienced than my kindred was so tragically underrated. Though I did my duty without complaint and held my silence. I listened carefully to the words of the boy who was little older than me (and that king Henry held with higher regard than father and.Warwick held for me). "It is word from King Henry that if you stay you shall fight. And all here shall die." When he spoke his last words, he looked to me before taking his leave of the tent.

"Then so be it." Warwick spoke, casting the decision before any other man had spoken. "We fight and they die." 

Salisbury frowned, stepping closer to my suddenly wayward cousin. "That is treason boy, you should know that." He hissed it as an aggressive whisper. An aggressive whisper all heard. 

"Not when if we succeed and King Henry dies. Then your grace." He turned to my father. "You will be king."

I had half expected my father to contemplate it. To see the look of consideration, of thought cross his face. Instead he surprised me with his actions, taking my cousin by the doublet with and aggressive grip, throwing him backwards in equal ruthlessness. I gasped in wide eyed horror. For a moment no one spoke, no one dared to breathe until my cousin rose shakily to his feet and my father broke the awkward silence. "I do not wish to kill King Henry only to get what I deserve. My place at court, at the kings side. My rightful place! If Henry dies his son will inherit the throne and Marguerite, our so called queen will rule through him. So unless you have another idea to have our heads and limbs decorating London until Christmas I suggest you hold your tongue Lord Warwick."

Warwicks look was stricken as he paused, his face twisted in anger before, realising his lack of support he turned and fled the tent. My father and uncle sighed turning to me. "Edward." Papa spoke, resting a hand upon my shoulder. "Leave. Do not pause."

"How will I know when I have got far enough?"

Father smiled. "When you are safe." 

I nodded, mustering strength to leave, to separate myself from my father in what I knew could be the last time. Finally I left the tent mounting my horse. Riding down the road away from the camp, away from my father and Warwick, and toward what I could only hope was safety.

***

In the distance the sounds of battle told me it still raged. I had been sat for several minutes hugging my knees. Deep within my stomach I had recognised the feeling of dread. The heavy, weighty feeling as though I carried in my stomach the entire world. Through my mind thoughts raced and worries settled. Was my father still alive? Had we won? Was it normal that battles went on so long? After all, it seemed like forever. 

It was that moment, as I felt tears brim to the back of my eyes with the deep anxiety, that the tent opened and in walked men, carrying a stretcher. “Move!” one of the shouted to me. I had been tempted to tell them who I was, that to speak to me in such a way was indeed a breech of protocol. When my eyes glimpsed the man who lay upon the stretcher, my mind halted and my mouth clammed shut. Without another word, another thought I moved sidewards, watching in terror as they lowered King Henry onto the cool grass. 

Moments later my father entered the tent, pulling the helmet from his head and tossing it onto the floor. He did not regard me, did not even look to me. Dropping to his knees by King Henry’s side, I heard the strain in his voice. “Your Grace, I am sorry. it was never my will, never my intention that you should be hurt within this.” Papa was holding the King’s hand. 

Henry’s arm was limp, lifeless. He did not respond. I would have thought him dead but for the sobs that escaped him, that shook his chest and body. This was the first time I had seen King Henry so weak. Of course, I had heard that Henry was a weak man and weaker King. Now I saw this in plain, living proof. Papa’s hands were bloodstained, he removed the gauntlets, looking to me for the fist time since he had entered. “Edward come here, now boy!” he snapped. 

I obeyed, approaching nervously. “Put your hand there.” he pointed to the wound at Henry’s neck. The wooden shaft of the arrow caught my hand, I didn’t wince, I didn’t say a word as the splinter split my finger. Blood ran down the wood, mixing with Henry’s. I wanted to vomit. My stomach churned. “Your hands are the smallest.” Papa stepped away as I pressured the wound. “I have sent for a physician.” I nodded, unsure if he was speaking to me or to Henry. To himself maybe?

“Papa, is the battle done?” I whispered the words, not taking my eyes away from Henry. I heard my father pacing, up and down the tent.   “No son, Warwick is still fighting and your Neville kin are pursuing Percy mercilessly. Damn them. Why can they not leave it? It could have been over, but instead they risk men and honour for their own vendetta.” Father hissed this time, stopping his pacing within my touching distance. I closed my eyes, guilt pooled in my stomach. 

Why was there such an aversion inside me to hearing my fathers words against cousin Warwick? Was it not treachery to feel such, when my loyalties should have laid with my noble father. Anger brewed in me, I somehow found it hard to believe that Dick would act on vendetta, on hatred. That he would act in anyway which was unnecessary. If he was pursuing the Percy’s, he was doing it for the good of the nation, he was doing it to protect King Henry. 

Papa seethed, turning on a pinhead as the physician entered the tent. “About time!” He growled, pulling the man toward King Henry as he shooed me back with a hand. “Will he live?”

“The arrow is in a place I have never dealt with. The chance of survival is decreased my lord, your grace. If we can stop the bleeding I suppose he could live, but the risk of infection...” He trailed off then.   “Then make sure he does not die or I personally will be pursuing you for treason. Do I make myself clear?”   Father grabbed hold of me, pulling me back as he raised his voice at the medical man before us. A man who now started his work with shaky hands. I knew that would not help, even then. A surgeon should not work with hands shaking, with the trembles. I knew my father’s anger came from a justified worry. The intention had never been to harm King Henry, and if he was to die now upon the battlefield, the She Wolf Queen Margaret would rule through her son. Then we would all be worse off, for she would not be likely to forget, to see it as any less than the purest treason. 

But father’s anger had given this man the palsy. If he was not careful this, and not an arrow, would be Henry’s demise. I could not watch in silence. I broke from my father’s grip approaching King Henry and the doctor before papa could reach for me. I gripped the arrows shaft hard, looking to the doctor. “What do we need to do?” Unconsciously my hand stroked the hair from King Henry’s forehead. Fever was setting in, I could feel it from his dampened brow. 

“You need to pull the blade from his neck. Slowly though, too fast and you will tare the skin.” I nodded as the man spoke confidently, relief in his voice as his hands began to steady. I pulled, slowly, silencing Henry’s whimpers, with my free hand I stuffed my handkerchief in his mouth.   “Bite down your grace. It will help.” I wished I could have soaked the fabric in wine, to take the edge off his pain. I looked as papa glared, I felt his eyes burning into my cheek. I knew he was unhappy with my decision to act, but this was the only way I saw a chance of saving King Henry. The physicians hands would kill him, I had been blessed with steady hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 1455, Edward would have been 13 years old, so whether he was of an age where he could reasonably fight is thoroughly debateable. As was his presence at this battle. 
> 
> As the sources suggest that the Duke of York did not want to fight or do battle at St Albans, and it was not as such an ambush as much as a forced negotiation gone wrong. As Edward had already been accepted by his father as a valuable asset (if no more than a playing card to prove he had a healthy and strong son to succeed him in parliament), it is not unlikely that Edward would have been brought along to such a negotiation, to serve a dual purpose. The more important of those purposes I believe would be a demonstration that York did not want to fight and were not guilty of treason, but wanted only to secure the safety of King Henry and serve the best interests of the King and of England.


	3. Ludlow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They return to Ludlow from the first battle of St Albans where Cecily is awaiting them. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, please leave feedback, I want to improve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sitting in the dark, I can't forget  
> Even now, I realize the time I'll never get  
> Another story of the bitter pills of fate  
> I can't go back again  
> I can't go back again  
> But you asked me to love you and I did  
> Traded my emotions for a contract to commit  
> And when I got away, I only got so far  
> The other me is dead  
> I hear his voice inside my head  
> We were never alive  
> And we won't be born again  
> But I'll never survive  
> With dead memories in my heart  
> Dead memories in my heart  
> Dead memories in my heart  
> You told me to love you, and I did  
> Tied my soul into a knot  
> And got me to submit  
> So when I got away,  
> I only kept my scars  
> The other me is gone  
> Now I don't know where I belong  
> We were never alive,  
> And we won't be born again  
> But I'll never survive  
> With dead memories in my heart  
> Dead memories in my heart  
> Dead memories in my heart  
> Dead memories in my heart  
> Dead visions in your name  
> Dead fingers in my veins  
> Dead memories in my heart

The sky was darkening when my horse jolted me awake as its hooves hit stone in the gatehouse of Ludlow Castle. It had been with great reluctance I had followed my cousin Warwick away from St Albans and my father, who as we dismounted was riding with speed to London with Henry in his tow. It was much to my surprise, and relative dissatisfaction, that as soon as my feet hit the ground, lady mothers arms were around me, pulling me into a strong maternal embrace. “Edward, oh my darling Edward.” Her emerald pendant clinked against my armour, she soon stood back, holding my shoulder at an arm’s length as she regarded me with speculation. Her eyes widened as she cast me aside, turning on my cousin with a fiery brutality I had not expected of her. “He is wearing armour. Explain why my son is wearing armour my lord Warwick.”

 

My cousin was not a man accustomed to being speechless, especially not at the words of a woman. However he seemed tongue tied as he regarded my mother with the most level of gazes he could force himself to. “It was your husband’s decision madam.” Warwick bowed deeply as he spoke, refusing to keep eye contact as my lady mother, the Duchess of York, regarded him with an icy disdain. 

  
Stepping forward I spoke in a  voice more shrill than I had anticipated. “It was not! Papa did naught wrong! Mother you must believe me.” I heard the thud of metal, felt the slight pressure as her hand rested it upon my shoulder, pulling me closer to her, she kissed my head using her free hand to wipe my hair from my forehead. 

  
“I do Ned. I do. Hush.” She looked back to Warwick, nodding for him to continue. 

  
“We had little choice but to fight my lady. His Grace the Duke did not want to fight madam. Twas my lord Somerset who insisted. He spoke for Henry, the poor mad fool could not have made such a decision.” I watched as my cousin fell silent, my mother’s hand had been the cause as she laced it around his face in the hardest strike I had seen. My mother was a woman that when she so desired, held the force of any man. I jumped at the clap, monitoring Warwick’s reaction. “M...my lady?” His eye’s averted ma mere’s level, cool gaze. I knew without questioning that he was curious as to the cause for my mother’s seldom witnessed aggression, furious at her outburst. 

  
“You do not speak of King Henry thus. Your arrogance exceeds you Lord Warwick, be warned that whilst my brother and husband may permit your insolence, I most certainly shall not. You are not King, you are not a Duke and you hold your title only for your wife. How dare you speak of royalty with such little regard. It is for your sort that Queen Margaret is intent on the destruction of my family.” 

  
“My apologies my lady.” Warwick muttered the words in the most unapologetic tone I had ever encountered. A small smirk of a smile came to my face, I had always admired my cousin for his bravery. He was indeed the bravest man I knew, for any man willing and able to defy my mother was a man not to be reckoned with. I wiped the smile clean from my face as mother looked to me, the edge of a scolding look informed me she had seen my conspiring expression. I slipped into silent embarrassment as my cousin and lady mother continued their discussion. 

  
“Since you all thought it suitable to fight tell me details Lord Warwick. Was my son the Earl of March well safe of any violence?” The clipped tone of her words informed me of the silent implications of her words. I gulped, looking to her as a smaller child did, with admiration, adoration and anticipation. Her silent message read clearly; if he was not Lord Warwick, it is your head I will have as payment for my son’s stolen innocence. 

  
“Indeed my lady. No sooner than your noble husband knew we were to fight than young Edward was away.”

  
“Accompanied by whom?”

  
“None my lady, to my regret.” Warwick’s voice held genuine anxiety. I blinked twice, momentarily unaware of his sin, surely it had been the responsibility of my father. If he had not seen it fit for me to hold an escort, as he had not, then surely one was not needed. It was then I realised, as my mother paced away her frustration, that it was indeed toward my father her anger was targeted. My cousin was the scapegoat, the unintended victim of a pure and maternal rage. He did not await her reply, instead he pursued to tell her of the happenings of battle. “Madam it may ease your nerves to know we won. With minimal injuries.”

  
“That is something, tell me more nephew. Where is my husband?”

  
“He is to London madam. With King Henry. Regrettably his grace the king was injured in battle. He received an arrow to the neck and-”

  
“Damnation I warned you to be careful.” I heard her curse my father under her breathe in a defiance which was not unlike her. “This is another reason for the witch of Anjou to wage war against us. Where is your father?” She turned back to Warwick, grabbing my hand in a vice-like grip as I tried to move away. A vain attempt to join my brother, Edmund had emerged onto the steps of the solar, a building which seemed so welcoming in the darkening night. 

  
“He too has made the journey to London. They sent me to accompany the young Earl of March to you my lady and since my job is done I will bid you good day.” 

 

“Nonsense, I will not send my kindred away to darkness.” 

  
“I insist madam, I shall burden you no longer. Warwick castle is just a days ride from here.”

  
“A days ride you can undertake tomorrow. I insist you stay, take some refreshments, rest and leave in the morrow. If the lord of the castle does approve of course.” Mother looked to me in a unique  deference of responsibility, of authority. An occurrence with which I had never previously been blessed. I was indeed Lord of Ludlow castle, during the sometimes lengthy absence of my parents. 

  
“Of course!” I tried desperately to hide the excitement from my voice, instead I aimed to sound welcoming of the idea, with a civil amount of reluctance. A mission  at which I believe I failed. I must admit, my heart was pounding with excitement, I, the Lord of Ludlow had given my authority for the great Earl of Warwick to stay within this fortress. I have never felt safer. 

  
“That is agreed then. Inside, the both of you.” Ma mere pushed me through the gatehouse and into the Bailey. It was moments before Edmund raced down the steps, bounding toward me in a manner reminding me much of an excited puppy. My cheeks flushed as I saw him, embarrassment tickling me whilst irritation kicked my stomach. Did my fool of a brother not understand, this was no way to behave before our mighty cousin? Did he not understood I wished to make a grand impression. 

  
Mother gave me a look of discontent, of motherly irritation as she caught Edmund in order to save face as I dodged him, narrowly avoiding my brother’s embrace. I ran up the steps, eager to keep to my cousins tail, even risking my brothers displeasure. It was just moments after we had entered the solar that Edmund joined us, closing the door with an awkward slam. One to which my mother brought him close. His behaviour irked me, sometimes Edmund behaved much like a child. I was relieved to see my cousin paid him no attention. Instead his attention was focused on the large room in which we stood. “Take a seat my lord.” Mother sounded confident once more, returned to her comfort zone. 

  
She approached me with the reproaching look of a mother, leaning into me and speaking just loud enough for me to hear, sure her words were marked to Warwick. “You should not rebuff your brother so Edward, family is the closest friendship with which one can be blessed. Treat him well and Edmund will never betray you, he is loyal to the core.” I hadn’t meant to scoff. 

 

I stood awkwardly as I watched my brother sit upon the settle by the window, glaring at me with both the adoration and the hatred only a brother could conjure. Warwick settled into the cushions of a deep wooden chair, looking to me he smiled as he ran a hand through his beard. My hand on the hilt of my sword I began to pace, up and down the room, stopping only as my mother’s hand caught mine, pulling me to a stop. “Edward.” She muttered, looking to Warwick once more, she walked with me to the settle, pushing me down next to Edmund as she approached my cousin, sitting in her favoured chair. “So, how are your brother’s Dick? Is George still aiming for a place within the clergy?”

  
“He is soon to be Bishop of Exeter, and is well proud. As aught he should be. As for Thomas he is settling well into married life. As for Johnny, well he was always a rogue was he not?” My cousin laughed, receiving my mother’s blessing as she nodded. I knew little of my other Neville cousins, knowing them only by name. It had come to me naturally that I would adore the cousin I knew the most, the cousin who had at the age of only twenty five gained such a reputation. 

  
Beside me I felt Edmund move, nudging me, his actions served only to increase my irritation. I held with me a desire to strike him. “I think Richard would suit well the clergy.” Edmund spoke, looking to mother and our cousin with wide, childish eyes. The type offered by children who fought to stay awake. Children’s whose opinions were often best left unspoken. Despite my agreement with him - for indeed, whilst our brother Dickon was just three years of age, he held a holiness, a piety almost unrivalled by all -  I could not help but explode. 

  
“Well maybe but papa is unlikely to offer a child to the church.” I sounded more haughty, more superior than I had intended to. 

  
“And why not Edward?” It was Warwick’s voice who broke the tension. “A career in the church is one respectable for any noble boy.” 

 

“I was just saying that.... Well Richard is just an infant. He is too young to be in the church, or to know he truly wants to be.” I stuttered slightly, looking toward Edmund I saw his grin, one which informed me I had made a complete fool of myself. Indeed I had risked my cousins irritation, and probably gained it. 

  
“He will grow Ned, and children have been given to the church much younger than dear Richard.” Warwick’s tone was correcting, but did not hold the irritation I had feared. I breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was short lived, my cousins next words both frightened and amazed me. I suppose in hindsight I understand them, they came from experience. Then however, I was as green to his knowledge as a woman to battle. My admiration overgrew my senses, swamping and engulfing me in it’s bitter depths. “Besides, the true reason you spoke was to put your brother in his place, was it not Ned?” I was silent, shook my head and edged further away from Edmund in what must have, to my cousin at least, seemed like my agreement to his preposterous accusation. He laughed to my surprise, a loud and bold laugh as befits a man like him, my mother jumped at its volume and its intensity. “Of course you did. Oh sweet lord you cannot deceive me boy. You must remember, I myself have three younger brothers. Each of them I like to ensure are kept in their place. There is naught wrong with that.”

  
I had naively settled into the comfort attached to my cousins words. He approved of what I was doing, in a circular way. Although he warned against alienating my brother, as much as did ma mere, he also told a tale of his own experiences, his own similar actions. He even implied it was natural, normal and mayhap compulsory that an older brother, the heir to a grand estate and all it’s titles should enforce the place of his youngers, if only for practise of true command and power. After all, one day i would be expected to take charge of forces more powerful than Rutland. 

  
Regretfully throughout the duration of Warwick’s speech, my lady mother had been facing him. With no indication of her mood I had assumed rather greenly that she had indeed been mimicking the thoughts of my cousin. However as she rose to her feet with a speed so alien to her, I almost fled the room, suddenly aware of how profoundly angry she was. “No nephew, you are so very wrong. My son is just thirteen years of age, and though he may have the earldom of March beneath his belt, he does not have his mother’s submission. That is the property of no man. As my husband does not control my will, and God controls my morals, I shall not accept your ridiculous suggestion that it is acceptable for one of my children to over rule another.” She turned to me then, forcing me to shrink back into the settle and toward Edmund for comfort. A comfort not received as he darted to my mother’s side, engulfed into a one armed embrace. “Edward Plantagenet, your brother too is lord of this castle and both of you hold a joint union of control. You are not to question him over matters of neither of your concern. As it happens I hold pride in Richard which I hold in neither of you. At the tender age of just three, he knows to whom his true loyalties should be sworn. If the both of you spent more time on your knees and less time in the ring preparing for battle, perhaps there would be no need for such training. No need for you, Edward, to have seen the sights of St Albans as you did.” She took a breath, looking at Edmund who glared at her with a betrayed expression. She sighed. “I understand your outburst Edward, but do not accept it. You are to bed now without supper. I wish not to hear a peep from you until you have repented and recognised who holds the true authority and who in this room deserves your loyalty.” She pushed Edmund toward me in a none too subtle gesture. “You will resume your studies tomorrow. Now leave us.” 

  
I had stood in anger. Rising to my feet so quickly my head spun. For the moment I stood there regaining my balance, whilst my mother returned to her chair, pausing to look at me whilst I swayed, a thought came to my mind. Why then it possessed me to divulge such information, how I knew it would hurt her I do not know, I did not seem aware of the implications of my words as I spluttered them out in anger, nor did I really know to whom I was trying to direct her anger. “Mother, you should know, the Duke of Somerset died at St Albans.” 

  
With those words, and upon seeing the expression on my mothers face I left. I had not realised that my words had informed my mother of what we had done on the roads of that sleepy town. We had torn the world apart, we had begun something more bloody, more horrific than any of us had indeed envisaged. Those words had told my mother all. Her woman’s intuition informed her that with all that said and done, Queen Margaret would bring the force of hell upon our shoulders. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STONE SOUR  
> Your God Lyrics  
> New! Tap highlighted lyrics to add Meanings, Special Memories, and Misheard Lyrics...  
>  Download "Your God" Ringtone  
> Reveal to me this ugly thing,  
> I'm rusted metal by your head  
> It's gotten out of hand again,  
> Nobody sees it, but I can  
> You thought of everything, I bet,  
> But did you think that I might die?  
> I haven't really smiled in  
> I don't know know how long, you know  
> Something's gonna give again,  
> Something's gonna give again
> 
> I tried to fight, but did you listen?  
> Even after you're gone, man, I'm finished  
> I could never be you god,  
> But then I don't even think I want the job anymore
> 
> Say something, anything to me,  
> I do believe, but I have doubts  
> So many reasons to hold on,  
> Conflicting interest isn't it  
> I guess I'm better off in the end,  
> Cause you were always there to blame  
> I haven't felt so bad in  
> I don't know how long, you know  
> I can't get away again,  
> I can't get away again  
> I tried to fight, but did you listen?  
> Even after you're gone, man, I' finished  
> I could never be your god,  
> But then I don't even think I want the job, you see  
> I tried to fight, but did you listen?  
> Even after you're gone, man, I' finished  
> I could never be your god,  
> But then I don't even think I want the job anymore  
> What am I supposed to do now?  
> How am I supposed to live now?  
> All I ever did was try,  
> But the story ends,  
> So I guess I'll have to die  
> Where am I supposed to go now?  
> Go ahead and go away"

My father’s return to Ludlow, for me, could not have come soon enough. For several weeks my mother had been watching me like a hawk, whilst Edmund’s smug expression of being the favoured child had not once left his face. His existence had begun to irk me, and in my immaturity, the glorious childhood  days we had shared, how we had been so close were forgotten.

Margaret, my youngest sister at just nine years old, wandered up to me as I sat overlooking the river, occasionally skimming stones. I often did this when I had fallen into disfavour, first it had been an attempt to frighten my tutors by my disappearance, then it was my way of avoiding my mother. We were not supposed to leave the castle grounds, I had on several occasions been scolded for indulging in the forbidden pleasure of my ventures to Ludford Bridge, upon which I would climb the course stone walls and sit, feet dangling above the water. Once or twice I had fallen from the bridge, once I had nearly drown. When that news had reached papa, he had enforced a strict rule upon his children. “You are not supposed to be here. Ma mere will be right wroth if she catches you.” Her voice had come as a pleasant surprise to me. 

  
Margaret had talent in her ability to silently approach any one and thing. It was however her very presence outside of the castle that had taken me with such surprise. Margaret ever had good intentions, amongst them was the desire to never unduly worry our parents. Since my parents had arrived at Ludlow with their household, her trips from Ludlow castle were few and seldom was she unattended. As I glanced around us in that moment, I knew she had come alone. Pride welled up inside of me as I swung round and offered her a hand. “I come here for the peace,the  tranquility in the madness,you wouldn't understand." Of course, I did not understand either, no matter, she looked at me blankly. "In truth I came here to be away from Edmund.” I sighed, looking backwards into the water, the faintest curiosity as to how the lapping water would feel engulfing me. 

  
Margaret’s voice brought me back from those thoughts. “But you love Edmund! You always play those games! You know, where you are both great knights and...” she trailed off, as she often did then, like she never does now, her expression changing to one of confusion. “Ned you will be friends again right?” 

  
“We were never friends!” I scolded much too harshly. Her eyes widened and shock set into her face. Whilst I often found it to be my duty to scold our wayward brother George, Margaret has rarely seen the sharp side of my anger. Instantly I felt guilt, jumping from the walls and onto the bridge, I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to me as she tried to step away. “Oh Meg, forgive me, my nerves are raw on edge these days.” 

  
“That is because you hurt our lady mother. She is still furious about whatever it was that happened at St Albans. That’s where you went, yes? St Alban’s? What was it that you and papa were doing there?” She did not wait for me to answer the question, which is best for I would not have. If lady mother did not see it fit to explain to Margaret what our business had been, I was hardly likely to strip my sister’s innocence from her needlessly. “Was it good to ride so far with papa? Oh how I would have loved the honour!” She giggled then, nestling up to me until her headdress fell astray. Sighing I stopped, holding her arm gently whilst my free hand adjusted her head dress. 

  
“You are a girl Margaret. He will not let you.” 

  
Margaret stomped her foot in a rare display of anger. “Do not remind me of that! It is so unfair that I am a girl! Nay, the world is not fair to girls.” She kicked the dust then, covering my hose in it’s sticky, grey coating. I could not help but laugh as her hair fell from beneath the headdress in a will of it’s own. She smiled then, catching the brown lock in her fingers. 

  
“That’ll do eh, Meg? We can have ma mere see to it when we return home.” I took her hand, walking away from the rivers hum and up the hill toward the castle’s gatehouse and market square. She set the pace for our walk as she skipped beside me, happy I knew to be spending time with me. Although Margaret adored our younger brother George, she openly appreciated the rare opportunities to engage with more adult company. 

Adult company, not quite an adult.

  
It was then however that she stopped, looking at her reflection in the glass of a local shop. “What will ma mere say? She will surely know that I left the grounds!” I saw the tears in her eyes. I had learnt to understand our mother’s anger, and it often was the case that I risked her irritation. I see it now, more than I would then have dared to admit, I was not a good child. Too many times I scared my parent's in my foolish play. Like my time when I had ordered the Crofts to hammer shook into the stone at the top of Mortimer Tower, and with ropes climbed down its edge; or had played jousting, only to fall from my horse. Margaret however was blessed with no such mischief. 

  
“I will tell her I found you atop the keep. Or in Mortimer’s tower. You were exploring and you found me, right?” 

  
“Right Ned. And you were not in the bridge. Not, not, not.” 

  
I could not help but smile with true affection as she began skipping again, pulling me up the hill with a surprising force. It was ten minutes before we reached the gate house, greeted by the knowing gaze of the guards who resided there. “My Lord.” was the muttered greeting we received. I sighed and rolled my eyes as Meg sprang to life, running through the outer bailey with the excitement only a child could possess. It was moments then before in her joy, and to my embarrassment, she ran into a man, half knocking him to the floor. I ran to her, catching her before she hit the ground - which would have resulted in tears until midnight. 

  
I looked to the man, ready to retort to any insult he was to pass to my sister. Meg was most often present at Fotheringhay, and often the servants here at Ludlow could be coarse, unaccustomed to the ways of my siblings, to the mannerisms of young girls. I had, on multiple occasions, raged at our retainers for their backhanded treatment of my younger siblings. Although my tongue was loaded, drawn back and ready to fire, when the man before us turned around, it fell limp to the bottom of my mouth. I bowed my head in instant recognition. “Now Margaret, that is hardly way for a lady to behave.” Margaret squealed in response, running past him and toward the castle, excitedly shrieking for our mother as she did. 

  
“Father.” I muttered the words quietly, receiving the blessing I had hoped for as papa placed his hand atop my head and laughed, retuning his gaze to my sister as she raced ahead, almost falling in the keep. 

  
“That girl.” he muttered with a paternal pride. “Sometimes I think she would make a more stalwart soldier than all of my sons. Lord knows she has the will and determination of her mother.” He looked to me then, ruffling my hair much to my annoyance. “Do not look so stricken lad. I will not make her my heir.” 

  
I did not laugh, could not laugh even though I knew it was his desire. The look he offered me said all, more than his words could truly reveal. He pulled me close in a rare sign of comfort, before he began his stride toward the castles inner bailey. Papa was perhaps truly the bravest man I knew, for whilst Warwick may have more battle brilliance, my father could battle the most demanding war I knew - my mother - and more often than not, he would win. 

  
I followed him at a run into the inner bailey where I was not surprised to find my mother. I was however surprised that her greeting of my father came in the form a hard slap across his cheeks. “Richard, you and I have lots to talk about.” My father blinked, though clearly taken aback, he found the ability to offer my mother a swift kiss upon the lips, one she quickly rebuffed. Her attention falling on me. “Where have you been? I have searched the castle, the grounds, searched Ludlow for you and you were no where. Have you been down to that damned bridge again?” She was about to step closer to me, barred by my father’s arm which wrapped easily around her waist.

   
“Oh my darling Cecily. He was with me. I sent word to him that he should come to the market square. I would not have called for him, would not have taken him to that bridge, to Ludford had he not looked so weary. But alas he did, and I did not know you had forbidden it today.”

  
“You know well I have forbidden it always husband.” Her tone was cold and with that she turned away, taking the stairs into the solar. Soon she was climbing the stairs to the ducal chambers. Father groaned, looking to me with a despairing glance. 

  
“You would do well to stay away from marriage son. Lord knows what i shall do with this cursed woman. By Jesu I love her, but sometimes.” I saw his hand clench, gasping I looked away. “I would not hurt her lad. Nay, she’d launch a war more fierce than any Lancastrian if I did.” He chuckled, his face soon turning serious. “You should not defy your mother so Edward. You may be a lord within your own right son, but she is still your mother and she sanctions actions for your best interest. She worries for you when you are away. Times are changing Ned, and you will be in the world of danger. Do not open yourself up to that.” He looked to me then, his eyes icing over with what I believe to have been remorse. “I fear I have made the wrong decisions, I fear we have begun a war and we must be careful to win. Promise you will not got to the bridge alone?” 

  
I nodded, breaking a smile as did my father. “Good lad. Now go and occupy yourself, I must speak with your mother.” I couldn’t help but laugh as the expression which crossed my father’s face was one akin to a lamb being offered up for slaughter. 

 

***

 

It was nightfall, when belatedly I was climbing the stairs to my chambers. Stalking past the door of my fathers rooms I heard voices speaking none too quietly. Recognising them instantly I paused briefly, before in a daring vault, I slipped around the corner to be masked only by the curtains. “Richard, he is challenging my every action?” Ma mere sounded tired, I knew she would be slumped in a cushioned chair in a manner reserved only for her most exhausted moments. 

  
“That is normal Cis. He is thirteen, coming into his own and soon we must admit he has reached his majority.” 

“He is thirteen! We have five years before we need concede that fact.”

  
“I wish the law were so clear, for your sake and my own but Cecily it is not. Edward is capable of running his own affairs. For heaven’s sakes he is no longer a child.”

  
“And whose fault is that?”

  
“Do not blame me for that! I did not take him with the intention to fight. I did not want battle. Lord no. I wanted nothing less. You think I would risk my son for that?”

Father sounded hurt. I heard his heavy steps on the floor as he paced back and forth. “Look, my hand was forced at St Albans. You are only tempting him more toward acton when you tell him he cannot go to the bridge.”

  
“You know my reasons as well as I. Do you not remember when he fell? Not once Richard but twice, and both time I feared him gone. He could have drowned.”

  
“But didn’t.” Mother didn’t reply for what seemed like several minutes. 

  
“Richard, what happened at St Albans. Is Somerset truly dead?”

I knew fathered nodded, and then he added. “And Clifford too.”

  
“Lord Jesu help us.” I knew too that mother had drawn the cross over herself. 


	5. Ludford Bridge - Battle in absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update :) been busy with my  
> PhD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I learned how to fall today, didn't think it would kill you  
> To settle the debt I thought never would be paid  
> Found out I was wrong today, too weak to continue  
> One final defense to fall  
> Still unbroken  
> Now I am torn, thought it was over this time  
> And we know there's still a fire inside  
> And we know, and we know  
> We're gonna let it burn  
> Let it burn  
> Till the image fades away  
> Knew there was a price to pay, didn't think it would thrill you  
> To witness the fallen one shattered and ashamed  
> No I'm not the only one yearning to fulfill you  
> Unwilling to risk it all  
> Still uncertain  
> Now I am torn, thought it was over this time  
> And we know there's still a fire inside  
> And we know, and we know  
> We're gonna let it burn  
> Let it burn  
> Till the image fades away"

November 1459, Ludlow, Shropshire.

I for one could say I couldn't have predicted what was about to happen. After St Albans we had settled into several years of uneasy peace. Peace my father had fought for negotiated and sold his pride for. At the time I had not realised it was uneasy, or what any of it meant. My father had been wrong, I was no more than a child finding my place in a mans world. Looking back it all makes a sense it never did. After love day, when my father had clasped hands with the she wolf , to remove our shame my mother had told us all it was over. In her eyes and voice had been an optimism which I now realise had been laced with scepticism. 

It was far from over and the events of Ludlow that evening were about to make it all too clear. 

My father had been flanked by my cousin Warwick and my uncle of Salisbury as he stormed into the solar in a foul temper. No sooner had my mother raised herself from her chair than my father in his rage knocked it flying to it's demise as it smashed against the wall. "Papa!" Edmunds voice was shrill as he jumped back, resting a protective hand upon our mothers arm. A gesture for which I offered him a scolding glare. Raising slowly I approached my father in the dutiful manner I had in my seventeen years learnt to do. 

"She has broken her word." My fathers voice was low as he seethed, anger burning in his normally placid brown eyes. "The witch has broken her word and defied her husband." 

"Richard-" my mother silenced herself as fathers eyes burned into her. 

"Henry is king, and his authority should stand by itself. She should not expect him to justify his decisions." He hissed through gritted teeth, offering me a defensive glance as I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. It was Warwick who came to my defence, raising a well toned arm before me as papa stepped toward me. 

"Richard understand her anger. You yourself have been one to question Henry. She will not see that your demands are reasonable. Would you, should situations be reversed?" My mother took a breath. Stepping away from Edmund as he gripped her arm, clearly uncomfortable with her speaking out. "Your demands after St Albans were like to irk her. When Henry dies you are her heir. You have disinherited her son and now you once again hold power." 

"Henry is her Lord and husband and more importantly he is her King." Father growled in her direction. 

"As he is yours Richard, and whether it pleases you or not she is your queen. She is protecting her son and heir as you would protect Edward. Understand her anger." My mothers words were final. My father, far from appeased, turned away without a further word. He began to pace the rooms length as my mother turned to my uncle. "You, what happened to you?" She regarded his attire with a look of revulsion. 

"We were ambushed at Blore Heath on our journeys." 

"Did you win?" My uncle nodded, reservation clear on his face. Ma mere stepped forward, holding his biceps in a sign of affection I had seldom seen from her, and never to anyone excluding her children and my father. Thus in recent years, it had been an almost absent gesture. 

Without another breath from my mother my uncle began to speak. "John and Thomas were captured. They are in the hands of Lancaster." 

"And have led their forces to us." Papa grunted once more. "They advance as we speak." 

My mother spun to face him. Urgency written on her face. In that moment the world changed. I had always known my mother to be determined, stubborn to the core. Yet my father had spent so long demonising the Anjou woman, yet in that moment my mother reflected the woman we fought, the woman charging towards us as we breathed. She was the commander of my father and his army. "And your men?"

"Are armed and ready for what good it would do. Her forces were much bigger than ours, with Trollope gone..." Papa said nothing more. Emptiness filled me, I looked to father, I assume my expression blank as I understood his words and their implications.

"Then you have no choice." My mothers tone was cool, collected in a way my body would not allow me to be. Had you asked me then, I would have called myself the calm commander, looking back I know myself to be unstable. My heart thudded and anxiety plagued me. I could not have made a decision had I been forced. "You must leave. All of you." 

"I will not-" Edmund did not get to finish his sentence as my mother pulled him to the side. I did not hear her words, but her decision was final. 

We did not have time to collect our things nor to wish my brothers goodbye before we left. With the Lancastrian forces weighing down heavily upon our back, with cannon protecting us we fled that stronghold without our pride, without our reputations. We left it all behind. It was on Hereford we made our decisions. Edmund went with father and with papas disapproval, I fled England for France in the company of my uncle and cousin.


	6. 'England'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now that I've been torn apart,  
> Will there be an end to this?  
> Will there finally be release?  
> Will I finally rest in peace?  
> I'm determined to believe  
> My prayers will be received
> 
> With a tortured soul and an honest design  
> My will cannot endure as my heart is torn away
> 
> I was caught up in the moment  
> We were alone and you seemed to harness the light  
> Even though I felt cold inside when you told me it would be alright  
> I had given up control and I didn't focus hard enough  
> To see the warning signs, your heart is serpentine."

When my brother returned he had changed. That was something I knew from the moment I saw his hardened features as he trotted down the road holding his sword in an upwards cross. 

I will not lie and am not afraid to hide that my expression must have looked akin to a stunned baby. My mouth hung open and my eyes were wide. 

So much had changed over just a couple of months. Unless I had missed the letter which told me that my father was indeed making his claim to the throne more imminent. 

No matter, papa greeted me as he jumped from his horse as the creature came to an unsteady halt. His arm wrapped around me as he pulled me in with effort. "Jesu lad but you get taller each time I see you. To think soon we will be hard pressed to find a horse to hold you." He turned then to my uncle and cousin. "I hope he has not caused you too much grief in his time with you." 

"Grief in so much as finding a tailor to fit his clothing. Cost a fortune I'll say." My uncle said as my father approached. Edmund shot me a look, glaring as I moved toward our father. He blocked my every move in a manner so unlike who he was, who he had been should I say. 

I didn't pay him much attention. I had never been what my tutors would have called stupid, though Edmund had always had the brains for us both, but in that moment I feel I was the only one who lacked the knowledge. Warwick swore until the moment of his death that he had not known my fathers intentions. I know now however that Edmund did. How I hope he did not understand them, or what they would have meant.

Wakefield is the next chapter in my story, one I still do not fully understand. It is a chapter however I must leave for now. All I must tell you is that I would never forgive papa for what he did that day. His strategic suicide that stole from me my dearest companion, my brother Edmund. I suppose if I think about it he was lost so long before it. I had seen it in his eyes at Ludlow, had only I thought of it. From the moment we had crossed the bridge at Ludford his eyes had glazed with something of a disinterest, a disillusionment which surely festered to an irrational hatred the time he spent in Dublin. 

Once again I digress...

From my reunion with Edmund we rode in near silence to London. I remember our one brief conversation as we stopped to rest one night. Papa and Uncle Hal (the name my mother called her favourite brother) had slipped away to bed in the small hours of the morning. Warwick had agreed to keep gaurd whilst Edmund and I sat warming our boots and gloves on the last of the fires embers. He hadn't said a word, had barely looked in my direction. I had known his desire to talk from his fidgeting. 

Edmund had been nothing if not composed. He was not a man to fidget. He did not catch my eye as he cleared his throat. I recall his voice was deeper than before we separated, that had been the biggest surprise. "I hear you won at Northampton?"

"We did." He nodded. "We caught King Henry." 

"For what good it's worth." He scoffed, taking a gulp from the tankard of ale he reluctant shared with me. One would have thought me a leper with the plague not his brother. 

"And what does that mean?" I had snapped the words too harshly. Edmund rose, quickly on the defensive. 

I must laugh when I recall it. Edmund was never the tallest of lads. He was too much like Richard in his stature. Lighter hair and fairer eyes were all he possessed of my own characteristics. Had I stood I would have dwarfed him, instead I stayed sat in the mud, looking up at him as though it were my only option.

"That means that you and Warwick and our uncle have the king of England in your possession as though it is the greatest thing and none of you have the faintest clue of the bigger things at play. You have no idea how fortunate you are. The chosen one. That's what papa calls you. You chose to leave with Warwick when your loyalty demanded you follow to Ireland. None would force you though."

"Edmund I-" I sounded like a child. He however had the roar of a mighty lion that night. 

"I have not finished! Papa he praised you in Dublin. Told me of all the adventures you had. Your trips to court and your time at St Albans. Anyone would have thought you the perfect son. Jesu how I hate you." He kicked the tankard into the fire as it hissed. I wanted to scream at him that he didn't mean it. That he would always be my brother. Instead I bit my tongue so hard I taste blood just at the thought. "Just know you don't deserve it. You deserve none of it." They were his last hissed words to me. 

My brother stormed off then. I didn't sleep that night. When dawn came I could still be found sat frozen by the fires grave but I could not feel it. Edmund and I had had our first fight. I had not known it would be our last. If I had, lord I probably would have changed things, would have stopped him storming to Wakefield. 

We arrived in London two days later. Exhausted men with exhausted mounts. Ma mere was awaiting us, as were Richard and George. As I saw Meg my words to her from years before swam through my minds. "We were never friends."

How true that sentiment was and I didn't know it. If I could change one thing it would have been my immaturity. My petty desire to remain angry at Edmund for as long as possible. I remember my words to John as he spoke to me about the rift between us that day. I would not apologise to him until he apologises to me. 

How I wish I had heeded Johns advice, how much too short life is for anger. 

I have not mentioned John till now. For I suppose I did not realise how much I miss him. How I miss the sensibility, how I now know the wrong I did him. Johnny was more a philosopher than a soldier. Though soldiering he did better than any a man I know. Although he had himself a nasty habit of falling into enemy hands, he had an amazing habit of remaining alive long enough to be free...

None of us had expected what would happen when we hurried into the great hall at Westminster palace. Edmund knew, God damn him, before those doors had opened and my fathers path to war and destruction had been complete, Edmund had offered me a knowing look. He could have changed it, but he had not the slightest desire. 

My father had placed his hand upon the throne before the peers of England. He had expected my support. He did not receive it. 

I remember the awkwardness above all as we stared in a stunned silence. It seemed like an eternity before we followed my father from the room. Warwick I knew was fuming. It was seconds before the shouting began. I watched, saying nothing to defend either man. How could I? 

Edmund took papas side. He was so fast to fly back insults at our kindred. Edmund and I had been partners in all things, excluding this. He had no idea of the price our father was about to exact on our behalf. 

I don't know what had happened in Ireland. I suppose I'll never know. I know however that my brother would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the decision to keep Calais out of this version of the story. I have written some sparse materials for this, if anyone is interested comment and I will upload them. Calais was arguably one of the more defining points of Edward's life, and gave him the freedom and independence he would never otherwise have had. This arguably shaped his entire career as both King and as a person. Edward was known for his trade, essentially being the only medieval king to have 'a job', which saw him profit and his self made and highly complex exchequer grow in a way which few kings acheived. Calais was arguably where he learnt such trading skills. 
> 
> Additionally, other things of importance happened in Calais, such a the capture and imprisonment of the Woodvilles, which caused quite a controversy, and in which Edward, Warwick and Salisbury were accused of maltreatment of their captives. Though sources suggest this is highly unlikely, which is arguably verified not only by Edward's own marriage to Elizabeth Woodville (which would have been doubtful if Edward had been involved directly or indirectly in the maltreatment of any Woodville), but also through his relative closeness and arguable friendship with Anthony Woodville, which supposedly extended to before Edward's marriage - though this is a topic of dispute. 
> 
> Additionally, Edward's marriage came about from a visit to Northamptonshire, where he visited Grafton, and likely would not have done so if the maltreatment happened. 
> 
> If you're interested in Calais, and the skirmishes and complex politics, including Edward's propaganda campaigns whilst he was in exile there, please do let me know. 
> 
> I have also missed out the battle of Northhampton. I can include this, though will have to write it. Let me know if you are interested again.


	7. 'Majority'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Withering eyes catch you as you fall  
> A bitter sigh - no one moves at all  
> Let me in for one more long disgrace  
> Just forget the same distractions you refuse to face  
> We both know that it’s gone… but what if no one knows  
> No one knows to remember why it’s wrong?
> 
> This is all the pain a man can take  
> This is how a broken heart still breaks
> 
> I don’t need much to show you, only enough to control you  
> Bury your head inside this and gather the darkness that binds it  
> I think I’ll die if you deny me, swallowed alive in eternity  
> Give me a way to be the agony that knew you all along…
> 
> Push it down and hide me from this waste  
> Don’t hold back - I’d kill to take your place  
> Tell me a lie… tell me you don’t care  
> Just forget a storm is coming - just forget you’re scared  
> We both know how this ends… but what if no one knows  
> No one knows how to kill us in the end?
> 
> This is all you need for who you are  
> This is how a good man goes too far"

January 3rd 1461

My life has been one of tragedy. One great loss after another and not a one I could mourn. I do not want pity or sympathy, but you must understand, there was no good bye from Edmund. That is my single biggest regret, that between us we could not set aside our petty differences. 

I had made my way to Ludlow in an exhausted, broken state. I had wanted nothing more than to fall into my bed and with a pillow over my ears and a blanket over my shaking body, I had wanted to forget the world. That would never come. 

I did not know that as I collapsed half drunk on the ground beside the Norman chapel. In my youth there was no shame in that, no guilt in having visited every tavern from London to Shropshire with a hundred men at my back. Not even as our priest placed his arms under my armpits and dragged me up the stairs and into the solar. A room in which he knew himself forbidden. None said a word as I slept beside the fire. None could though we did not know it yet, for I alone was lord of Ludlow. The snow had been falling for several days, Shropshire was as white as the sheep that roamed it's fields. I could not have imagined that in the north at Sandal it would be a blood red slush, that the Calder - a river I had once so merrily scared my mother by swimming in - would be overflowing with the bodies of my men and that Edmund would lay dead upon the bridge I had run across on our days at market. I shudder to think of it. How frightened he must have been alone. 

Sometimes I believe that had I been faster, had I given in my anger I could have changed things. That Edmund would still be alive. Will so often tells me not to. Even now as all I can do is lay in this cursed bed, but he does not understand. 

I awoke to the sounds of banging on the solars door. I roused myself enough before my most trusted servant and then friend Will Herbert entered. He bowed low. "Your Grace." He said in a voice that have so much away. At that second the decapitated heads of my father and brother were being mounted on the walls at Micklegate Bar, my uncles soon to join them. To think this happened in the city of my duchy... 

"I bring you most unfortunate news." 

I sat up, looking at him with an inquisitive eye. My headache from too much wine had subsided in an instant, the queasy feeling in my stomach settled. I knew what he would say before he muttered those words, all I had prayed was that he would not. 

Wakefield had not been supposed to happen. Not like it did. All leaders had agreed on a Christmas truce, to keep peace into January for the sake the Christ child. Wakefield was an ambush, a broken promise. In truth I do not know why it offends me so, I should have expected it and in so many ways I did. 

I don’t think I have felt anger like I did in the moment Will Herbert continued to read the letter in his hand. 

“Your father died in battle not three days ago in Wakefield. Amongst the notable lost were also your cousin, Thomas Neville and after battle upon the bridge at the Chantry, Edmund lost his life in the hands of Lord Clifford.”

I had wanted to snatch it away, to read it myself. I had thought it so undignified that my kindred’s death was to be read allowed – like vespers or rites. However as I stood, swaying as the world spun, I understood why my beloved friend may have read it to me. 

“Edmund, was he alone?”

“He had fled the field Your Grace.” 

“During battle?” My eyes widened. Had my brother deserted?

“When they knew it to be lost.”

“He was killed away from battle?” Herbert nodded. “Tis murder. Cold blooded murder.” I said the obvious, leaving out what all knew I wanted to say.

I would pursue Clifford, and I would have his head.


	8. Mortimer's Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note: This chapter contains depictions of violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This is wartime, this is our time.  
> We won't be denied.  
> Feed the fire that is raging inside  
> This is go time, this is Showtime  
> We will fight till their wills are broken.  
> This is game time, an insane time  
> Let the madness fly  
> Show them strength that just can't be defied.  
> Find the power to devour  
> Let the beast inside be woken 
> 
> In this world only the strong will survive  
> Hear the roar and you will know you're alive  
> Feel the energy build in your soul, cause it's time 
> 
> Oh, in the calm before the storm  
> Another legend will be born  
> Another battle will be won  
> We will rise  
> Oh, so heed the call of confrontation  
> Today we feed on domination  
> Secure a legacy that will never die  
> Be immortalized.
> 
> Raw emotion, pure devotion  
> They will testify   
> And our memory will endure for all time  
> Never hiding, no dividing  
> Let them witness us move as one now  
> Show no mercy, let the world see  
> We're invincible   
> Show them nothing is beyond our control  
> Take it higher, our desire  
> Will determine what we've become now
> 
> Are you ready for the test of your life?  
> See the fear bleeding right through their eyes  
> Feel the energy build in your soul cause it's time.
> 
> Oh, in the calm before the storm  
> Another legend will be born  
> Another battle will be won  
> We will rise  
> Oh, so heed the call of confrontation  
> Today we feed on domination  
> Secure a legacy that will never die  
> Be immortalized "

February 2nd 1461, Wigmore, Herefordshire, England. 

It hadn’t taken long to rally support. When I had publicised my death to the village, the men had united in their support for the two young boys they so dearly remembered. Thankfully too the surrounding towns from Shrewsbury to Hereford remembered us also. With little support for Lancaster in this area since the cold November we had fled, and Queen Marguerite’s decision to exact her price from Ludlow’s towns people, I will say we had quite the army. 

Communication’s had been back and forth between myself and my cousin, a man now devastated by the death of his brother, furious about the murder of his father. By 1461 things had intensified. Six years earlier, any man would have said they could have seen an end to this ridiculous war. After the events of 1460, we all had grievances. My father’s had been Ludlow and exile, my brother’s had been my own success, Marguerite wanted justice for her son, Warwick and I wanted revenge for our kindred. 

Soon we had known it would come to a head. 

I had received word from Warwick of rumoured movement in Wales. The Tudors had long been loved in the Welsh hills, and with an army of brigands and low life’s they had been the choice for victory. I had acted quickly to defend, choosing with care the ground on which we would fight. 

With Will Hastings by my side I felt reassured. Even then Will was always close to me. He had been a tutor through much of my boyhood, my father’s ward from his youth until he became my most faithful servant. I had not known in that moment what would bring us together. In all truth, this was to be my first battle where I, the new Duke of York, took command. I had learnt so much, so many times great men like papa, Warwick, Will and even Johnny had taught me how to lead an army, how to plan a battle, but fear made me irrational. I believed my knowledge to be far from at hand. 

No matter, as the Welshmen army came into view, my men were lined up and ready to fight. 

I am sure you will have heard of the strangest phenomena which happened that day. When in the sky there were three suns. Panic had then descended upon the ranks and soon there had been disorder. My men had been ready to flee, sure that this was a bad omen. If I am honest, I too was scared. Right fearful that God had deserted us, deserted this earth for our sins. I cannot say what it was which brought perhaps my most famous genius to my mind. 

As my men ran back and forth, deciding which direction they should run I stood, towering above each and every man and with cupped hands I shouted, clearing my lungs of air. “Stop!” 

Within a second the disorder had ceased and chaos calmed. Men looked to me with eyes darkened by fright. “Do you not see?” I said, slightly quieter this time. “It is a sign.”

“A sign of death! A sign that we are doomed.” Shouted one man at the back. I had never been a harsh commander, never treated my men with less regard than myself. It was they who I expected to lay down their lives for me, but that day I could not tolerate the questioning. My nerves were raw on edge, could these fools not see this? 

“Silence you bumbling simpleton!” I ran a hand through my hair, my eyes taking in the spectacle before us. Then it had come to me, staring intently at the strangest sight, the three suns in the sky. 

I mused: Three suns, three suns; three sons. 

“Now if you will listen let me finish.” I had each and every man’s attention. “Tis a sign from God, a sign that he is on our side and that he fights with York today.” Their baffled faces exasperated me. “Do you not see it? Three suns in the sky, they represent the three sons of York. Edward, George and Richard.” 

“I do not understand.” One of my men toward the front of this mighty crowd mumbled. I bit my lip in irritation.

“The holy trinity is n our side! The father, sun one, the son, sun two and the holy spirit, sun three. Do you not get it.” 

“That could be that they back Lancaster, how do you know it’s for you?” The man toward the back shouted once more.

“He doesn’t!” Shouted a man in the middle, his tone turning rough. 

“Shut up!” The man at the front came to my defence. “You all deaf? He said, one for each of the three sons of York. Do Lancaster have that huh?”

I could not help but feel the pull when I said their name. I have talked about this little since that year. Not weeks after Edmund’s death ma mere, in her panic, had sent Richard and George to France for sake keeping. She had truly feared she would lose me then, as she fears she will lose me now. She did not want our cause lost and York defeated. Richard and George she truly believed were her only hope. 

I had been there to wave them off from the dock, to wish them luck. To hand Richard the lucky broach he would keep forever, the one which he now brandishes so his hate so proudly. I had given George a purse of money, kissing his head I had whispered to him that he was in charge. Jesu but George was so sweet a lad then, I do not cease to question what changed him so profoundly. 

My men calmed as they considered my explanation. Believing each word. They formed back into ranks, obediently waiting my command. A command that for the first time in my life, I had to ensure came at absolutely the right times. 

I was thankful then that amongst my nervous men came a man I recognised. A man I was truly grateful to see. Sir Richard Croft had been a loyal friend of my father, and though my classroom rival and enemy, he was a man I knew could hold his own in battle. A man who had been through my own training, who had helped to better my skills and who, above all could bring numbers and experience to the field. 

He skilfully manoeuvred his horse through the men, taking care not to trample a single one. I revelled, somehow his moves were so elegant, so graceful. How could a boy in the same classroom as me, a boy who had held me down and beat me in the Bailey of Ludlow castle now be so womanly in his pose? “My Lord!” He shouted as he brought his palfrey to a halt before me, dismounting and falling upon his knees before me. I could not help but splutter with laughter in what must have been the biggest breach of etiquette. 

“Rise up.” I muttered, offering him my hand. “What brings you here?”

“I heard battle looming and I was not far from here. I brought men and supplies. Thought you may be sore in need Your Grace.” 

“It’s appreciated, however sore my need.” In truth, I believe my words were more from a lasting bitterness from our childhood than truth. We were in need of men and supplies, being several miles out of Wigmore, my men had not eaten a meal in almost a day. 

I saw Sir Richard’s eyes looking over my men, with a dissatisfied glance. “Might I advise my Lord?”

“Certes.” I stepped closer, not wanting my men to hear our conversation. 

“I do not wish to impinge on your strategy, but I would have your archers more offensive.” He sighed, looking toward the old Roman road which lay west toward Wales. “Offense is the best form of defence, correct?” 

I nodded. “So what would you advise?”

“Line them up on the old Roman road. Prevent the whoresons reaching your flanks.”

“Attack before them?”

“Call it a pre-planned defence.” I heard his unspoken undertone: This is a war man, do you wish to be seen as a coward? He continued. “They aim to cross the River Lugg, that is essential to their cause, you have placed yourself before their path, you block the river make it stronger.” 

I nodded. “Do it. Line them up as you please. 

***

It was midday before it became clear that we would indeed battle. My men had waited patiently. When Tudor’s army advanced tentatively, facing a hail of arrows before finally they broke through at my archers retreat. They drew swords as they formed my right wing. We pushed forward at my command. I do not know if it was inexperience or naivety, but I did not see it coming. 

Tudor’s army advanced heavily on my right wing, as my centre and left fought in=minor forces. Whilst we gained ground Tudor pushed my right wing back, soon with his encirclement strengthening, my right wing dissolved, pushed back over the road they fled toward Wigmore.

I growled with irritation, turning half my force toward our undefended right, where Owen Tudor pushed heavily on our men, attempting to weaken my forces. We were gaining ground, slowly, and I questioned our ability to continue. I knew it was a waiting game, it would be close between who would lose momentum first, who would take the first killer break. In that moment none could tell. However with the cold spray from river behind, and my men freezing their bollocks off, it seemed Tudor would gain the upper hand. 

It did however happen so quickly. Tudor I believe grew over ambitious in his efforts and that was his demise. As he ordered the full encirclement of my left wing, they responded with a ferocity he had little anticipated. Soon we gained ground, with Tudor’s right and centre heading left, we fell onto a weaker force. Soon we cut through, pushing Tudor to defeat and surrender. 

I do not know what he expected. Mayhap he assumed I would give him mercy? As we advanced to Wigmore with him held prisoner in our ranks we set up camp. It was there the hard discussions came. I had rejoined with Sir Richard in the village hall at Wigmore. There was an eerie silence my advisors sat drinking ale a little more stale than pleased a single one.

I said nothing as I looked to them, half reclining and beginning to snooze on the chair I had chosen. “We do not need to kill him.” Will Hastings was the first man to speak. In honesty I regret my reaction, but then Will and I were not as close as we became. I was suddenly upright and leaning forward. 

“Oh?” I sounded irritated I knew, but with pain soaring through me I could not control my temper. 

“He can be used-“

“He will be killed.” I said with a tone of finality. Owen Tudor was a man who already had caused me much inconvenience and I will not lie. My real target, Lord Clifford, had eluded me thus far as he controlled the north from his stronghold at Skipton. 

I did not grant him a trial. I did not hesitate. It was with my own sword that I forced Tudor to kneel in the snow before with one swing his head fell to the ground. I had wanted to make an example.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's all or nothin'  
> And nothin's all I ever get,  
> Every time I turn it I burn it up and burn it out  
> There's always something,  
> There's always something going wrong.  
> That's the only guarantee, that's what this is all about.  
> It's a never ending attack.  
> Everything's a lie and that's a fact  
> Life is a lemon and I want my money back!  
> And all the morons,  
> and all the stooges with their coins,  
> Their the ones who make the rules, it's not a game it's just a rout  
> There's desperation, (there's desperation)  
> There's desperation in the air.  
> It leaves a stain on all your clothes and no detergent gets it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're always slipping through the cracks  
> Then the movie's over, fade to black  
> Life is a lemon and I want my money back
> 
> I want my money back  
> I want my money back
> 
> What about love?  
> It's defective! It's always breaking in half
> 
> What about sex?  
> It's defective! It's never built to really last
> 
> What about your family?  
> It's defective! All the batteries are shot
> 
> What about your friends?  
> It's defective! All the parts are out of stock
> 
> What about hope?  
> It's defective! It's corroded and decayed
> 
> What about faith?  
> It's defective! It's tattered and it's frayed
> 
> What about you gods?  
> They're defective! They forgot the warranty
> 
> What about your town?  
> It's defective! It's a dead-end street to me
> 
> What about your school?  
> It's defective! It's a pack of useless lies
> 
> What about your work?  
> It's defective! It's a crock and then you die
> 
> What about your childhood?  
> It's defective! It's dead and buried in the past
> 
> What about your future?  
> It's defective! And you can shove it up your a**"

London, 1461

 

I had been riding for hours, my hands were raw cold and my muscles were shred from the saddle. It had been just three days since Warwick and I had joined forces in the Cotswolds. On the back of my victory at Mortimers Cross, Warwick had informed me od his defeat at St Alban’s, his defeat which informed me that John had fallen prisoner to Lancaster. My cousin John if I recall was a man with an uncanny talent for falling into the hands of his enemy, more amazingly however has his talent to land on his feet.

 

My body breaking march to London had been the idea of my cousin. From a young age Warwick had a habit of getting what he wanted, a talent which would we all knew sooner or later end in his demise. He had always been power hungry, and so it had I must say been his idea that we should proclaim me King, if London would allow it.   
  
Or with the look upon my cousins face as we sat before the cities gates, I rather feared that he would make me King against England’s will.

 

His hands tightened into clenched fists and soon he had to bring his mount under control as he bucked beneath him. “Have care Warwick, else you’ll snap his reins.” I silenced myself as his look was bitter.   
  
“Where in God’s name are they?” He hissed, looking away from me. He used his teeth to rip his leather glove from his hand, looking back to the gates just they creaked open a jar, soon a man appeared.

 

“My lords.” He bowed deeply, looking nervous. This man I knew was no fool, he knew that no matter of his decision, London could be sacked at his word. What mattered was what who would win, he was gambling even talking to us.

 

Gambling without the odds…

 

“I do not like to be kept waiting Sherriff.” Warwick grunted, sounding haughtier than I had heard him sound. This was his voice reserved for who those below his rank.

 

I myself shifted in my saddle in that awkward moment, this was Sheriff John Lambert, a friend of my late father and a man who could not hold my eye. I doffed my hat as he cleared his throat. “Sorry Lord Warwick. I am sure you understand, our predicament is not easy.”  
  
Warwick scoffed, rolling his eyes as I lifted my hand to him. “Of course we do. We do not ask this without great urgency. I humbly beg you Sir John, if you could only offer us safe lodging you may ponder some more.”

 

“You know I cannot Your Grace, if we open the gates we may as well pronounce you King. Queen Marguerite, she will have her war-“

 

“By God man do you think she does not already have it?” I snapped. “You think Wakefield was not the start of this bloody war and as much as you I want it to end. It will not man, not until there is sense on the throne.”   
  
He signed then, waiting several tense moments before he gave the shouts for the gates to open. “You may stay at my house for the night Your Grace. Tis only humble but t’would be an honour, if you’ll have it that is?”   
  
“A warm bed and a roof above my head, man do you think me without a mind?” I said cheerfully, steering my gelding through the gates with Warwick close on my tail.

 

“I have no room for you my Lord. Lest you wish me turn my daughter out, she is but a child.”

 

“He does not, we would not have a child sleep cold for us. No he shall stay in an inn I am sure.”

 

My cousin said nothing, though I saw the irritation in his face. No matter, he went on his way parting with us at Westminster Abbey as we made our way toward Chepeside, and Goldsmiths Avenue.

 

It was ten minutes further before I dismounted by the man’s house, tying my mount against the wooden beams. “Do you have oats? He likes oats?” I muttered, patting his neck gently.   
  
“Course Your Grace.” Sir John opened the door. “Jane! Jane dear! Fetch some oats, we have a visitor.” He looked to me then. “My daughter, she likes horses but rarely gets to see them here, do you mind if she tends him?”  
  
“Is she timid?” He shook his head. “Is she likely to give in to his desires?” I spied the girl as she came through the door. She was not much younger than me if I had to say, 15 and a bonnie blonde is stunning green eyes. I could not help but smile. “Course, she can tend him. Just do not give him all of your attention my lady, he will have your heart too if you let him.” I patted his neck then, following Sir John inside.

 

I did not know it then, would never have dreamed that there on that street that day, I had found my love. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have been so lapse with my updates. I have been working tirelessly on my PhD and there just isn't time.

“You probably don’t remember.” I had been sat on the bench in Sir John’s kitchen for an hour, turning the spoon in the bowl of soup he had poured for me. I held up a hand as he offered a fourth. We both looked up as the figure stopped in the door way. “I knew your late father-“  
  
“I remember Sir John. Papa taught me I am never to forget a favour given us. Do not think I would forget.” Sir John smiled, shaking his head to the child in the doorway. “Not on my behalf sirrah. Come in Jane, that is your name?” I turned, smiling.

 

“My name is Elizabeth.” Her voice was timid as she smiled, looking to her father for confirmation. He nodded, pulling out a stool so she could sit. “But father has always called my Jane. I quite like it.” Her smile grew as she pushed a strand of stray heir behind her ear.

 

“Well it is a lovely name, would you like some soup not Elizabeth but Jane?” I smiled, pushing my bowl toward her. “I am not hungry. Don’t be nervous, go on. Take it. It’s not poisoned.”   
  
Jane picked up the spoon, blowing on the liquid before swiftly finishing the journey from bowl to mouth. “Would it were.” Sir John muttered, gaining my attention. “Jesu my lord forgive me, but it would make my decision so much easier.”

 

“You do not have to side to back me.”

 

“I have chosen my side my Lord and you will forever have my loyalty. It is convincing London that may prove harder.”

 

I didn’t speak, my eyes fixed on the girl now gulping down the soup with speed. “Careful you. You will give yourself stomach complaints.” I chuckled with a fondness. To think on it, I do not think much has changed since then. 

 

I rose to my feet that moment, resting a hand on Sir John’s shoulder. “I cannot say much for London, but sirrah, I am glad it is you who has my balls.”

  
Jane spluttered with laughter then gaining my attention in the form of a wry smile, she met my eye.

 

“Are you tired my lord?”   
  
“In truth, I am exhausted.” It was then that he showed me to a bed.

 

***

 

The next morning I was awake by sunrise and with pottage in my belly I re-joined Warwick and my horse. Sir John stood dressed in his robes of office as I mounted my horse, Jane holding the reins. “Will you be okay my lord?” She smiled to me, her caring nature showing even then as she refused to release the reins.

 

“Of course Jane. You do not need to worry yourself about me.” I leaned down in the saddle, whispering. “In truth I have enough people worrying about me. Come on, let me go now. I am sure a lovely lady like yourself will have your very own knight in shining armour, but trust me you have time. You do not want to marry too soon.”

 

She let go then, watching as I steered my horse down the road toward Westminster. Sit John walking beside me. “I would appreciate you not talking of marriage with my daughter My Lord.” Warwick scoffed at Sir John’s word.

 

‘She would not be the first the lads tried to woo. I would not ponder it, he will not marry her.”  
  
“I more worry he will break her heart. I have a marriage lined up for her.” He looked back to me, as though searching for my approval. “Do you know the Shore’s?”  
  
“I am afraid I am rather out of touch with London. I can say though, if your reputation serves then I am sure, I will not break her heart.”

 

That was not strictly true, I would break her heart.

 

We barely said another word as we progressed through London to Westminster Abbey where, by nightfall, I was proclaimed King.


	11. King Edward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Careful what you wish  
> Careful what you say,  
> Careful what you wish, you may regret it,  
> Careful what you wish, you just might get it. 
> 
> Then it all crashes down,  
> And you break your crown,  
> And you point your finger,  
> But there’s no one around.  
> Just want one thing,  
> Just to play the king,  
> But the castles crumbled,  
> And you’re left with just a name.  
> Where’s your crown, King Nothing?"
> 
>  

I was King, should the wind hand felt different blowing through my hair? Should the ground have felt different beneath my feet? Should the air taste sweeter and my stomach feel lighter? In truth, nothing had changed and the world felt exactly the same. I do not know what Warwick had been expecting, but London did not fall to it's knees. Although several more men joined our ranks, it did not change how I felt and it could not remove the pain I felt. None of this, none of what would happen would bring back Edmund. That was what i did not say when Warwick looked to me with irritation plastered on his face. "What is wrong, I have made you King and yet I have seen more cheer in a stone?" I said nothing, nudging my horse forward as my brain mused on the matter. The depression brewed as we made our way out of London and north, men at our tails.

 

***

_Ferrybridge, West Yorkshire. March 28th 1461_

 

It had been my order which had sent Lord Fitzwalter ahead.  Warwick and I had sat until the late hours of the night discussing our options. A map before us, my eyes had been closing of their own accord before our decisions were finally made. I had made the call to cross at Ferrybridge and had sent the order ahead to guard the bridge. Warwick had been furious when word had come that a minor skirmish had occurred, but the victory had been ours and we had made the decision to advance. 

In hindsight it was obvious. We should have called back our men and changed our point of crossing. I was soon to learn a harsh lesson: Where there are survivors there is risk of a counter attack.   
  
That is exactly what happened. 

It was eight noon when we arrived at the scene of what had clearly been a blood bath. Dick and I had received word earlier that morning. Our men had progressed to Ferrybridge where, in their attempt to cross the River Aire, they had attempted to rebuild the bridge. The rest of the message had gone askew, and the boy had reached us in a state of panic. A seasoned warrior, Dick knew there had been a battle and so when we arrived, he sucked in air deeply as he took in the situation before us. Why it came as a shock to me that Lancaster had not spent time to bury the dead I did not know. Now it is with safety that I can say, I expect anything from them. Little comes as a shock. When we had learnt there had been a potential attack, that had given us reason to pause, still we advanced.   
  
We had expected battle without expecting what we would find. 

Amongst the dead were Lord Fitzwalter and Warwick's own half brother. It was consequently with anger in his tone that Warwick turned to me. "Have your men lined up and ready." Warwick jumped down from his horse, holding its reins as he looked around, then to the men behind us. Our men were talking amongst themselves in whispered, panicked tones. 

  
"Will they desert?" I muttered more to myself than anyone else.  
  
Warwick shook his head with apparent anger, hissing his response to me. "Would you blame them? This was a massacre." He walked toward them, dropping his horses reins. The creature looked at the grass refusing to feast on the blood slicked blades. In that moment my stomach churned as I jumped from the saddle, walking to Warwick's side. How many men had we lost? How-  
  
I stopped on the spot, my heart paused it's beat and my skin ran cold. We were not alone. From the corner of my eye I had detected movement across the river, and now as I looked through the brightening dawn, the figures across the bank were not as masked. How foolish we had been, we had played right into their trap, this was an ambush. I still believe that had I not noticed, things would have been very different.   
  
"Warwick!" I drew my sword, the hiss of metal drawing the attention of every man.   
  
"Draw back." Warwick spoke, pulling me as he ducked behind a tree, signalling with one hand for our men to follow. He cursed under his breath as men hit the ground. "I will lead." He looked to me with a sternness in his eyes which I had never seen before. I had seen the fear in the faces of each of the men we had brought. One man looking to the next for reassurance, reassurance he did not have. 

"I will not blame any man who leaves." They were my words as the whistle of arrows, the wood cracking against the trees at our backs. "You leave with honour, but know we cannot win without you. Know that when we win you will be rewarded." 

With that, our archers ran forward in what I could only think was a delusional belief that we would actually win. The Lancastrian arrows continued to hail upon us, as our own arrows began to pierce the air. With little reluctance our engineers rushed forward, their efforts to fix the bridge beginning instantly. They knew it was their job that was most dangerous. It was my responsibility to ensure the men were ready to advance.  
  
Within the hour we had crossed the river, and I would learn that John (Lord Clifford) had lost his life to my archers. That had been my fuel, that had been the root of my victory.  
  
There was victory. After two hours, we had won and within three, we were progressing north to Tadcaster.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is a thoroughly sensationalized account of Ferrybridge. 
> 
> In actuality, Edward was not present at the battle and was instead north west of Ferrybridge at Castleford, where he crossed the River Aire and began to progress North via the Old Roman Road taking a longer, almost rectangular route to Towton where he regrouped with Warwick and Lord Faucanberg. 
> 
> Edward would likely have heard about Clifford's death around the same time as the Duke of Somerset may have. Either way due to Clifford's rising number of enemies, and the gravity of the situation of having two living and rival kings, Clifford's death would have been less than mourned it seems. Somerset would likely have been more concerned about the annihilation of Craven (Clifford's mark) reducing his numbers. Still, when he faced Edward at Towton his army outnumbered the Yorkists anything up to 3 men to 1. 
> 
> I have written an alternative account of the Battle of Ferrybridge, in which Edward was not there and this can be seen upon request.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Now I will tell you what I've done for you -  
> 50 thousand tears I've cried.  
> Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you -  
> And you still won't hear me (going under)  
> Don't want your hand this time - I'll save myself.  
> Maybe I'll wake up for once (wake up for once)  
> Not tormented daily defeated by you  
> Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom  
> I'm dying again  
> I'm going under (going under)  
> Drowning in you (drowning in you)  
> I'm falling forever (falling forever)  
> I've got to break through  
> I'm going under  
> Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies.  
> (So I don't know what's real)  
> So I don't know what's real and what's not (don't know what's real and what's not)  
> Always confusing the thoughts in my head  
> So I can't trust myself anymore"

I turn now to the tragic topic of my sisters marriage. My father had been sensible in all but two of his decisions. His first had been the man he had selected for my elder sister Anne's marriage, the second his decision to fight at Wakefield. 

It was the former of these which now caused me a problem. Henry Holland was Duke of Exeter, and had from my memory, ever been a foul and vengeful brat. Now an adult with an army to command, he was dangerous. This was no longer a rivalry between two scorned children. Nor the petty bickering of a child less favoured by his warden. This was a war. Here lives would be lost. That morning however I did not feel the usual cold hand of death upon my stomach, as so often I have when faced with a grave reality of lives to be lost. Instead I felt a warm fluttering of near joy. An almost sickly, unpleasant feeling which bordered ecstasy. 

As Warwick looked at me, his wry smile made me phenomenally aware of his true abilities. My cousin had ever held a talent for seeing right through me, and as Johnny had always called it, for reading me like a book. A strange sentiment as I had seldom seen Warwick with a book, excepting of course the bible. Warwick was not a reader, he was a warrior. Despite the scolding he had offered me at Ludlow so many years before, Warwick's feelings had become too clear. He did not understand the wiles of the wise man, the scholar had no place in his life. He had never understood the role of literature in the art of warfare. George Neville however had taught me different. He had shown me the legends of knights, read to me the laws of chivalry. If there ever had been a great scholar, it was he I would have named. 

"You are finally rid of that plague. The queasiness you get with war. Lord be thanked. Tis about time lad." 

In truth I don't think it had left me. It had never been the bloodshed which made me sick, nor the noise, the pain or the constant aching after battle. No. Nor was it the loss of Lancastrian life nor the risk of being drawn for treason. It was the loss of Yorkist life which brought me so frequently to fits in the long nights after battle. 

I did however stand in the tent that day, bollocks freezing from the snow, hands shaking and red from the biting wind. I did not think for one second about the sacristy of human life. Nor for the sacrilege we would perform. Instead I felt it in every inch of my being. I wanted revenge. 

For Wakefield, for Edmund, for Ludlow, and Anne, and St Albans. Most of all, for injustice. My heart was beating solely for revenge. I could feel it. 

I turned from Warwick then, offering him a sideways glance. "I want the whoresons head on a spike." Was my muttered response. 

"Somerset?"Warwick placed a supportive hand on my back. 

"Exeter. I want her too." It was more a growl than audible words. 

"You shall have it. My heralds have sent word to me Ned." I grimaced as my cousins hand moved up and down my back. "She is in York with her bastard prince." He smiled, catching my eye as he did. "Is it not befitting her head adorn it's walls?" 

How it was.


	13. Towton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Towton. 
> 
> Graphic depictions of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Another mission, the powers have called me away.  
> Another time to carry the colours again,  
> My motivation, an oath I'm sworn to defend,  
> To win the honour of coming back home again,  
> No explanation will matter after we begin,  
> Unlock the dark destroyer that's buried within,  
> My true vocation, and now my unfortunate friend,  
> You will discover a war you're unable to win.
> 
> I'll have you know,  
> That i've become  
> Indestructible,  
> Determination that is incorrupitble,  
> From the other side, a terror to behold  
> Annihiliation will be unavoidable  
> Every broken enemy will know,  
> That their opponent had to be invincible,  
> Take a last look around while you're alive  
> I'm an indestructible  
> Master of war.'

Had I planned to fight? Yes. Had I planned to fight at Towton, in piercing sleet and snow, working upwards to face my enemies in what was strategically a weak position? No. 

Somerset, for all he was, was no fool. He had planned well when he forced my hand that morning. It had in all truth been a hard task to motivate my men enough to have them March North to York, where I had promised them a decent meal and where I could, a bed with some  
comfort. It was however on empty stomachs, with frozen hands and feet we were to face Somerset and his Lancastrian force. 

"Hold your line!" The words came from Lord Faucanberg, Warwick's uncle. 

"The next man I see break rank will find himself on the receiving end of my sword." Warwick muttered. I shot him a look which I knew said all. Should our men see our tension, be able to read our anxieties we would be dead within the hour. In truth I said nothing. My heart thundered as from atop my horse, amongst a rumble of shouts from the Lancastriansabove, I assessed the situation in silence. We were on my calculations outnumbered. 3:1. My inhaled breath was sharp. 

"We are outnumbered." I whispered to Faucanberg as he came to stop beside me. 

"Tis not the numbers that matter." His voice was almost bored. I saw his eyes scrunched as he looked to the men above us. Their shouts getting louder. Whatever he felt it did not show. "Wait here." He jumped from his horse then. Turning to men as he gained the attention of every man, myself and Warwick no exception. We upon our horses were ignorant of his words. Whatever he said however sent a ripple of shouts through our ranks. My ears rang as our retaliatory shout grew louder. This once tranquil field was filled with mens shouts: A York, A York, A Warwick.... 

Soon the most experienced commander was once again with us, his hand resting on his mounts neck. "Twill hardly solve the problem." Warwick muttered.

"It will show them we are not scared. It will stop these low lives deserting." Faucanberg hissed. 

"Silence! The both of you!" I jumped from my horse. Warwick was fast to join me. 

"Shall we send scouts?" The older Neville whispered to me. 

"For what exactly?" I was methodicallyremoving weapons from my saddle.  
My armour clinking with every movement. 

"Negotiations. To set rules. Your grace is it customary-"

"Custom be damned." I shocked both men with my words. "Customs show mercy. I wish to show no mercy. If you want my terms my lord? Let me say, complete and utter annihilation."Looking into the sun, I smiled as it caught my eye almost painfully. "I want every last one dead. Take  
no prisoners." 

"They have more than twice our numbers." 

I laughed. "Then cousin, you best pray that Norfolk shows his face for us whilst you ready your men. Else you may just join them." 

Our glance was knowing. Somerset would not take prisoners, he would not give us quarter. If we were to lose, our heads would join my fathers. 

It was to Lord Faucanberg I had charged the responsibility of leading our archers. Without so much as a mutter he had, to my amazement their bows were strung and ready to fire. I had in such short time barely got the centre of our army in line. No matter. For several minutes no one moved. Tension filled our bones like the cold made the brittle. I could not hear so much as a breathe. Seeing little through my now lowered visor I tried to spy Warwick, watching as he stood amongst his men, sword poised and ready.

The next minutes were tense. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. The anxiety was tangible. As was Faucanbergs concentration. The only noise for several seconds was the wood of the bows creaking in the wild wind. Mercifully, god held our mens hands still. I gulped hard as the sudden whistle of arrows sounded. Through compromised vision I had for but a moment thought they were our own. I heard the shouts. "Hold your line. Do not falter, do not fire!" They confirmed my mens positions. We had not fired a single arrow. Much to my immediate distress. Why were we not retaliating? I knew enough that for me to break my line was a fatal mistake. I would not make the same mistakes as Warwick at St Albans. 

I did not feel the wind change. Several of Lancaster's arrows had met their targets, several men were wounded. I had not seen we held the advantage. "Shoot!" Faucanbergs order filled the air. It travelled in the wind like the crack of released arrows. I watched in silent anguish as our arrows travelled, one after another, each hitting their targets. It was only then I saw that with the wind against them, Lancaster's arrows fell tragically short of our men. To my right Warwick held up a hand to his men, each drew a sword. It would be soon, it had to be. I looked to my men, seeing their anxiety plain on their faces, as clear as it was in mine. It was only for the chink of armour that I knew the hand to be on my shoulder. "Hold strong your grace." Was what my standard bearer muttered to me. 

I intended to. I watched in amazement as our archers broke ranks, changing their aim at order. We were gaining ground, one yard, two yard, ten, twenty, more. Our uphill onslaught was effortless as our archers systematically collected the Lancaster arrows which fell short, sending them to their owners with a fatal force. Above us, waves of men were falling. It was then, in hurry we began our charge. Somerset's men were charging toward us, this was his attempt to save his men. Where our archers held the advantage, he knew as much as me, our depleted army were mere numbers compared to those beneath even his banner. Our archers retreated and the battle had begun. 

"Keep in line. Let them pass but do not break!" Those were my words as our archers rushed passed us. We had gained ground, Lancaster had lost their main advantage. However our protection remained in our strong formation. Like the Viking warriors of past days, we would not break formation. Seeing the incline above I held up a hand. "Stop. Men stop." I watched as my cousin began to charge forward. "Jesu but, you there, send word to Warwick. Bring them down the hill. We will not fight on the banks." There was method behind my madness. My lessons in the classroom had finally come to use, as my cousin George had always believed they would. At Hastings, the cause had been lost for fighting up hill. We would face them on level ground. Our tactics with fewer numbers had to protect us from exhaustion. 

To fight up the hill I knew was a risky decision. Behind Lancaster had been forests, tree coverings. A place I knew they could hide their reserves. To meet Lancaster up the hill would give them opportunity to encircle us. To block us between two enemies. Now we would remove their cruel tactics. 

I cursed as I saw before it happened. My cousin had taken my advice moments too late. Under the pressure of Somerset's right flank, Warwick's line was pivoting. Bending to the will of Lancaster and the onslaught of bodies was only growing stronger. With a shout I ran forward, my men meeting Warwick's line in a hurried defence. A hurried defence moments too late. Our formation was broken, we had moved 45 degrees, and now our men spilled onto an uneven line. Finally however our weapons connected with those of Somerset's. A less than ideal situation got worse. Under the direction of Exeter, my own brother in law, men began to push on my central ranks. It did not take long before half the force of Lancaster, focusing on my standard alone, forced my men back. We were losing vital ground. Pushing us back toward the woodland behind. As we lost ground however, the Lancastrian force grew tighter. Their weapons were constrained. My mother had warned me that my height on battle could be my victory or demise. They had known with ease where I stood. Had they failed to anticipate my next moves. I pushed forward, parting the protective wall my men had formed around me, lashing to the Lancastrian ranks in what was soon our gain. Their constricted ranks and impaired sword play made them easy targets. This was short lived. Anticipating my moves, Lancaster's forces began to encircle. I found myself pulled back into the protected centre. Men in armour surrounded. I was frustrated at my impaired ability. I reached as I could, cleanly removing several more of the Lancastrian common man. We were being pushed back. Further and further away from Warwick. Our efforts only saw the line turning further, our formation buckling, leaving us vulnerable. "Stay close." The familiar voice said to me, moving closer, his pole axe and sword ready for my protection. 

Will Hastings had ever been my fathers loyal servant. A tutor at Ludlow, he now stood by my side. A little man, by all regards, a deceptive fighter with unpredictable skill and strength. I would have felt safer with no other beside me. Even Warwick. 

We pressed on. By early afternoon my arms ached, we had gained little ground and lost little more. Men were dropping at alarming rates. I was thankful to see that so many were Lancaster's. In truth I had believed that in time we would lose. It was in that moment I heard a new bout of fresh, energised shouts. I did not need to look. Norfolk had arrived with our reinforcements. The snow blew in our faces, allowing for poor visibility. It was only as the cries of panic ran through the Lancastrian ranks that I knew what Norfolk had done. He had surrounded them from the back and right, taking them on the flattest land as I had feared our enemies would attempt. Having come through the woods they soothed my other anxieties. We had pulled the manoeuvre of ambush. With norfolks fresh troops out flanking the now surrounded Lancastrian forces, men in their thousands began to fall. No matter, the Lancastrians would not buckle in what was an act of utter defiance. 

Amongst the men there was commotion. Several men were dragged back from the Lancastrian lines. Amongst them I recognised lord Rivers and his son, the younger collapsed on his clearly bloodied leg, stripped of armour. Hastings I knew had seen the same, his proximity to me became closer. This was a new kind of battle, one on which there were no rules. A situation of my own making. Shouts were sounding across the field, bringing angry cries from the Lancastrian hoards. "Lord Dacre is dead." Hastings shouted to me. "An arrow through the throat. He took a break."

I laughed and pushed forward. The foolish bastard, had Clifford not made the same mistake? 

Several more hours passed in fighting. My men, as much as Warwick's, were exhausted. The pains had long since passed from me as my body, controlled by routine more than will, took off several men per swing. It was as the darkness had settled that things took their decisive turns. Lancastrian men were fleeing, first several and then hundreds. Our lines were meeting less resistance. It was within that hour that fighting ceased. Somerset had fled, as had Wiltshire and Exeter. We had won, that was obvious. It was however not so final. 

It was against my Lord Hastings advise that I spun upon my heel and sprinted, my armour both leaden and weightless, mounting my horse with speed. I spurred him forward, parting men as his hooves caused panic amongst the remaining, thinning Lancastrians. Men looked to me for direction. I gave it in swift words which brought dread. "Take no prisoners. Show no mercy." Was my shout. "Find the lords, kill them." Warwick was soon with me in pursuit of lords and nobles. Among those wanted was Somerset. He who had so willingly deserted. 

We first headed south to the beck below the field. Yorkist archers stood, lined and firing in rapid succession. The water ran red, as rumoured the Calder had at Wakefield. Men were drowning, those who did not drown were shot. Few men who fled this way lived. I saw Warwick's smile through his lifted visor. He was the first to turn his horse. I followed in out pursuit north, toward York. 

My horse clattered into the streets of Saxton, causing a mealie of panic and confusion. Men and women fled from the streets as I brought my mount to a stop. It was then as a lonely abbot approached I found myself over come with exhaustion. I barely recognised his last words. "They have fled my lords, north to York and further. You have won." 

No sooner had he finished than I fell from my horse. Collapsed upon the road to York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this is based on text from the books 
> 
> Fatal colours (George Goodwin) and from Wakefield to Towton (Phillip Haigh)
> 
> also from the chronicle by Edward Hall. 
> 
> It is noted that Edward IV himself said that he said that the commons should be spared and lords killed. This however seemed unlikely at Towton as he had already stated that there would be no quarter given to Lancaster, as he expected none for himself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You stay locked in your head while you're raising the dead  
> All your neophytes hanging on everything you said  
> You can take it from me since you took it from me  
> Even now, the shadow I cast won't set you free  
> Do you feel your essence through the pain?  
> If you lose your conscience  
> Take away the last of your woes that you're setting in stone  
> Well, your cover is passive-aggressive and blown  
> This is not about you, because it's all about you  
> You're out of luck, 'cause this is me not giving a fuck  
> Do you feel your essence through the pain?  
> If you lose your conscience  
> Just save yourself to sacrifice  
> A little truth for the cause, for the blame  
> Will you concentrate to realize your fate  
> Because, we want more, we want more"

York, March 29th 1461

"Your grace we were not expecting you." The man spoke up to me as we progressed through the city of York. I offered him a glance of mock sympathy. "We would have prepared appropriately your-"

"Then my advice for you my lord sheriff is that I am now your king. England is changing and you should be the one to promote this change. You should not have to expect me. Else you always be expecting me. This is my duchy. I expect to feel welcome." 

"Of course your grace." The man offered me an apologetic look, though all knew this grave situation was beyond his power. It had been Warwick's unfortunate decision which had set me in foul mood. He had chosen out advance upon York, his route taking us beneath Micklegate Bar. An unsettling entrance made worse by the rotting heads of our Kindred. 

"Has the situation been rectified?" Warwick's voice cut through the air, his level gaze met the man beneath us with a cool, empowering force. 

"I have men working on it." 

I nodded, holding up a hand to Warwick as he pursed him lips to speak. I brought my mount to a stop. Looking to the sheriff, I offered a smile. "What is your name?"

"Henry your grace."

"Henry." I tested the name. "Do you mind if I call you Harry, Henry?"

"Of course not your grace." I saw his cheeks brighten. My smile widened. I turned in the saddle, taking one foot from the stirrup and bringing it over the saddle. 

"Tell me Harry. Do you know when I won the battle?"

"Yesterday your grace."

"Yesterday. Yes." My smile vanished in a non too slow motion. "Then do you not think it was logical I would come to York?" He said nothing. His skin turning white as snow once more. "There was time enough to have those heads removed. Time enough to stop them leaving." He knew of whom I spoke. It was then that our attentions were stolen. A familiar voice cut through the crowds. 

"With all respect Ned. It was my decision." I looked to the man who spoke, seeing the tattered figure of a John Neville, my cousin and Warwick's younger brother. 

"Jesu Johnny, but I am glad to see you." Was my muttered response as I finally jumped from the saddle, wrapping a loose but supportive arm around him. "We must get you new clothes. You look like you have been through hell."

"He has been captive with Lancaster, I'd wager that is worse." Warwick pushed me aside as he embraced his brother with a too friendly embrace. Johnny looked to me and smiled, his body shaking as Warwick's hand clapped on his back. Johnny was a small man. Around 5 feet 4 inches tall, beneath his solid muscular exterior was a small and delicate frame. He shook like a doll in the hands of Warwick. 

It was several minutes before Johnny could speak to me, as Dick conducted a full check to ensure his brother had been handed back whole and as well as could be expected. In truth I had forgotten poor Sheriff Harry. Each minute must have dragged past in indescribable tension for him. His fear I would hang him and sack York, my revenge for Ludlow, was for him all too real. 

John looked to him with sympathetic eyes. "Ned, your ear if you will." I nodded to Johnny, remembering my anger. "He was too busy freeing me. Busy ensuring you were not hindered. There had truly been so much to do. York last night was in panic. Fear you would exact revenge for Ludlow."

"As still I might." My voice was a low growl. I turned to Sheriff Harry. The man dared speak as my jaw locked.

"Y...your grace might I?"

"If you must." John shot me a warning glance. One which said I might be king, but had cause to be careful. 

"I have for you a prize. For your victory."

"What might that be?" It was Warwick who spoke. I had too quickly lost interest in him, beginning to stroke my horses mane, until his next words. 

"The Earl of Devon and his retainers." 

"Since when was he yours to give?" I chuckled. This time openly amused. 

"He has locked himself in the castle at Clifford's Tower." 

I saw that this was news to even Johnny. "Really?" I whispered. The sheriff nodded. "Very well. York may keep it's livelihood. Devon will be dragged from there and I will have his head." I nodded to Warwick, then Hastings and John. The first two men saddled up, I offered Johnny a hand to take my saddle. With my cousin mounted I looked back to the Sheriff, taking the guide rope from my horses neck. "If you are wrong know, I will barricade you in Clifford's Tower and no man will dare defy me enough to release you." I clicked my tongue, bringing my horse to motion as we followed Warwick and Hastings up Micklegate, Faucanberg at our tail. 

"Why did you give me your horse?" We had been moving for little more than ten minutes, already the minster shadowed us. Johns eyes were fixed to it as he asked in a low, inquisitive tone. 

"You are in need of rest cousin." 

"You are capable of great kindness your grace." I knew his compliment was not alone. I braced myself for his next words. "Then why must you place a price upon a town which already is God fearing?"

"It is politics." I shrugged, repeating words I had often heard my father say. Johnny surprised me when he laughed. It was a cold and joyless noise, so unlike him. It earned a look from Warwick, one which stunk of disapproval. 

"It is Lancaster politics Ned. You swore when you became king that you would change that. Tell me. When are we to see this change?" 

***  
I had not answered Johnny as we arrived at Clifford's Tower. Nor would I answer him that day. It was with little effort we dragged Devon from his stronghold, as he called it. In truth the building was not fit to withstand arrows, less to defend it's residents against a battering ram. Or an angry king. 

It was Warwick who dragged the earl to me. Throwing the man on the ground before me. I lifted his chin with an armoured hand, looking into the face of a scruffy, unkempt man. "My Lord." He muttered in what I knew to be defiance. I knew Warwick would speak, would defend me. I heard his voice die in his throat as I raised a hand. Devon spat blood as with force, the back of my steel clad hand connected with his cheek. 

"I am not my lord."

"You will never be your grace, Edward Plantagenet as they call you. There is no Plantagenet blood in your veins. You are a traitor, and a scoundrel. A usurper and-" he said nothing more. It was John who had, in anger I assume, grabbed the man with a brutal force. His small hand secured in a vice grip around the Earls throat.

"I assume he is to be executed?" Johns voice held a tone I had never before heard in him. A violence laced his voice, his eyes shone dark in a need for bloodshed. I nodded in response.

"Will I have a trial? What justice is this?"

"Will you denounce King Henry? Accept Edward as your King?" Warwick asked, his tone bored. 

"No." Devon hissed. "Not the bastard son of a Neville whore!" 

My cousins tensed, but it was Lord Faucanberg who grabbed the earl, preventing his nephews from damaging the man. "You do not know you commit treason, it is that which makes you dangerous. It is for that you deserve no trial-"

"Because he is no king." 

I could not stand it. I pulled the sword from my scabbard, stepping closer. With one smooth movement it was there I removed the head cleanly his shoulders. No trial, no prisoners, no mercy. 

I had been true to my word. 

 

***

Early April, 1461  
York, North Yorkshire

“Your Grace.” Will Hastings had come to me as I looked over a table scattered with papers. I sighed looking at him as I rubbed fingers in light circles over my temples. In truth I cannot imagine how I looked, though Will gave naught away. He did not regard me less as he caught me, shirt untucked and without my doublet, half drunk by a raging fire. He simply placed the goblet of wine down upon the table. I gulped it down without a word. He smiled as he reached for the pitcher, I raised a hand to stop his efforts. 

“If I am to complete this with any sense, I think it would be wise to remain at least in part, in control of my senses.” 

Will shrugged, pouring some for himself. Even then he was a quiet man. He watched me in quiet observation, I grabbed the handle of my eating dagger, stabbing it into the wood of the table as I had seen my father do. Will offered a feint, comforting smile of recognition. I grabbed another, the blade followed suit. The third was stopped as he grabbed the blade before it hit the wood. He spun the dagger in his hand, gripping the handle he moved it across the map that held prominence in the littered papers. “You are sending men in pursuit of Lancaster, to little avail.” His voice was low, almost tired. “Somerset will have fled north, with Margeurite and both will be long gone.” 

“They may not.” 

“Take it on good authority your grace, they will. The Frenchwoman is many things, stupid is not one. Her son and she will be half way to France by now, cept King Charles would not allow it. She will seek sanctuary in the home of her nearest ally.”

“Scotland?” 

He nodded. “Somerset will be with her. Exeter too. Her Prince also. It is futile to send pursuit.” 

“You mean my journey north is in vain?”

“No your grace. No. Indeed tis quite the opposite. If you go north to Durham as you must.” 

“I must?”

He nodded again. “You must send men to scout and secure. You are not popular in the north. All do know that. York has never held the loyalty of the north. “

“You suggest military campaigns?” I looked to the dagger in his hand. 

“I am not your cousin your grace. I do not recommend violence. Rather I see it as a tragic necessity. Not here, not now. No. Your priority I rather feel is gaining loyalty. Quash rebellions and uprising where that is necessary. Pursue the Lancaster Earls where you know they may be.” He tapped the tip of the dagger on the map. “Durham, Newcastle, Alnwick, Bamborough.” He sighed. “But do not sack the northern towns. It will never win you loyalty. It simply feeds into Warwick’s plan.”

“Dick’s plan was to support me to become King. He has-“ I stopped, looking to Will as he shook his head. To give credit where it is due, Will was always tenacious. He was always wise and he was always brace. Where he thought injustice would be done in my youthful naivety, he would correct me if only to serve my best interest. Most glorious about Will is that he was never malicious. Not against Dick of Warwick, no matter how he deserved it. 

“Warwick is a Neville. Your Kingship does benefit him, power in the north benefits him more. Your ransacking of the northern towns and cities will simply feed his power. It is Dick Neville that holds the loyalty of the north, it is not you. The sooner you realise that, the better it is for you.” I looked to him sceptically. He held up his hands in submission. “Of course, the decision is yours. Your good father would have heeded me.” 

“You do not trust him do you?” My voice was light, inquisitive. I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over one another. 

“I did not say that. I simply said that his motivation is power. The Neville’s have long wanted power.”

“Nonsense.” I laughed. “There has never been a more modest man than Dick’s brother John. You did see him in York-“

“I did also see him when he alone brought the wrath of hell down upon his kindred and dear father at Middleham and all for his own fight for power. His rivalry against the Percy’s and why? Power, authority and jealousy. Do not be mistaken, he is not the child he was but do not be blind your grace. Any scrap of modesty, of Neville decency died with your uncle Salisbury at Wakefield.” He sighed as he finished the wine in his goblet, dropping the dagger onto the table. “Your father’s final words to me Edward were that I should protect you should aught happen to him. It has and so I am to advise you. You do not have to listen. You are king. Just remember, before that crown is placed on your head, Dick wants a puppet not a leader.” 

“Sir William?” Will looked back to me as he progressed toward the door. “Call me Ned. In truth, I find the formality quite irking.” He smiled as the fear of God lifted from his face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard finally enters the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh disaster, I know I'm long overdue  
> There's no answer, I know I shouldn't have listened to you  
> Before I let you decide, you have to know that I lied  
> I only do what I do  
> Let's be honest, I watched you walk away  
> You went off to find, anything else, anything less  
> On your own  
> Oh the Karma, I know it's coming for me  
> Oh no harm done, except as far as the eyes can see  
> The only issue for me, as cavalier as it seems  
> Is how you handle extremes, you never bother  
> Before I let you destroy, the very world I enjoy  
> You gotta do what you do  
> Let's be honest, I watched you walk away  
> You went off to find, anything else, anything less  
> I guess  
> I'm only honest, I'm only here to say, yeah  
> You've been gone so long, everything else, is already less  
> On your own"

The City of London, May 1461

I had arrived in London with Will at my side. Dick was still in the northern lands with Johnny, fighting for the recognition of me and not Henry as their sovereign Lord. Of course, all knew that would be a challenge. A challenge which had allowed me to see the truth behind Will's words. It had been with all too much eagerness that my cousins had agreed to stay north. To fight the Percy's in their county of Northumberland. As we sat by the fire burning in the solar of Baynards Castle, ma mere did it explain it to me. "Tis long been the source of feuding Edward. For nigh on a century the Neville's have held equal claim to the Northumbrian earldom. The Percy's cling to it. There is much bitterness and bloodshed. My brother Richard did want it for himself. John and Dick are no less ambitious. Cept they are more dangerous." 

"They have scorn in their arsenal. Youth in their blood and Jesu but if this war is not an excuse...." Will trailed off as he looked at me. 

"What is your view ma mere?" My brother George looked uncannily like a spaniel as he leaned forward, his blonde mound of hair cloaking his ears. I smiled fondly, nudging him with my foot in jest. At past dark, George was awake beyond an hour which his childhood years allowed. Mother had taken pity upon him if only for our cause to celebrate, and under strict agreement that his presence would go unnoticed by the adult folk. He had thus spent the last hour laying with the bitches my mother owned for the hunt and breeding. 

"My view? I think the Percy's are foul George. More than most Lancastrians. Sometimes however men are best approached unscorned. John's march north will have only provoked them."

"What did pass between John and the Percy's?" I asked my mother, looking to Will.

"John was not always the quiet, collected and educated man he is today. Before his maturity, he could be hot headed." Will spoke, repeating his previous sentiments in York. 

"He is frightfully ambitious." My lady mother spoke. "Much like his brothers, but with less to show for it." She shifted in her chair, taking time to rearrange her skirts before she continued. No one spoke. In all my years I had learnt, ma mere is not one to be rushed. "You must understand Edward, though as the eldest son and heir, he who is born second to an heir is less fortunate. He inherits less land and is bestowed fewer titles. Edmund was earl of Rutland. You of March. You held office in Ludlow, inherited your father's Mortimer lands where Edmund was to take Ireland. George and Richard, well they would have been knight's in time. Of course you understand that?" I nodded, looking to George, I smiled as I caught his eye. "John is the youngest but for one. He is heir to nothing." 

"Much more dangerous, because he has nothing to show for it." Will finished her speech. 

"All wonderful, except I fail to understand how this relates to the feuds between my Neville cousins and the Percy's." I knew I sounded disinterested. It was written over George's face. 

"When John was not much younger than you Ned things came to a head." Will spoke quietly. Respectfully. He did not wish to offend my mother, or my Neville kindred. Will was of too lowly a birth to have risked such. Though he spoke from what was clearly a painful memory. 

"He was a damned fool." Mother spoke with a fiery anger so normally uncharacteristic of her. She did not spare my cousin as Will did. She did not wish to justify John's actions, to condone them in front of such a fickle child as George. George who was equally as ambitious, with as little to show for it. I looked to her, as did George I noticed. He had begun to edge ever close to me and his hand now rested on my thigh. I shifted, wrapping an arm around him I pulled him onto my lap in a breech of formality. One my mother noticed, disapproved of, but did not complain about. "He challenged the Percy's to direct combat and so they sacked Middleham. Despite it being his own fault, my brother was furious. You see, Richard never did discipline them. I would seldom say a word against Anne, but your cousins sorely lacked a headstrong mother. She did offer them her attention and her love, but never her fury. I do not feel I have failed you there, have I Edward?" I shook my head. She smiled, leaning forward in her chair slightly. "With regard to John though, to make it worse, they later invaded his wedding. Thankfully no one died. John has the luck of devil, and that is all that is in his favour. He is violent, aggressive and frightfully self-assured. Do not ever be deceived by his quietness. His logic. He is overshadowed by his brother Warwick. As Sir William has rightfully said that in itself makes him more dangerous than Dick might ever be. John is intelligent, I'd wager as intelligent as his brother George. Maybe more so. Warwick is a damned fool. John? He knows he cannot aspire to be Dick. That does not mean he does not have power."

George snorted. I nudged him with my fist in his ribs. He whimpered then bit his lip, as though he suddenly remembered he was trying so hard to be an adult. My lips twitched up in a smirk. All until Will stole it from me. "Remember one thing Ned. John Neville is a wise choice for a friend, but he makes a formidable enemy. Never cross that man. He is both a great scholar and a great warrior. He has never missed a trick."

"What's more, our very own Richard takes after him." Mother spoke. 

I noticed Georges uncomfortable expression. After me, Dickon had been the centre of much attention. Dick Neville and I had been discussing his schooling, how Warwick would take charge of Richard's education and training. An opportunity George had been denied and sorely envied. In truth I regretted that, and in time would regret it all the more. George was too old to be considered a new squire. Before too long George would be considered a young man, he would be better suited within my own household. As my own squire. Dickon however was at a more amiable age, and given his new position, there was not a man of Yorkist loyalty who would not have begged for him within their retinue. He was bright and though small, at eight years old he was surprisingly skilled. He was a promising pupil and more importantly, a direct link to me. 

George quite regrettably showed no such promising signs. 

"Ma mere?" The quiet voice broke into our thoughts. Richard had appeared, hair tousled and dressed in his night gown. "I could not sleep."

"You were asleep when I fetched my book!" George lifted the book as though proving his point. He winced as my hand collided with the back of his head. "Ow!"

"Don't tal tale! You addlepate." 

"Ma mere!" George shrieked. "Ned hit me!"

"Your brother is king now. I'd wager there is little I can do should he choose to discipline you. Less I would do for he is right. It is no pain to be kindly George, and to not tell tales on your brothers every move costs less. You should learn a thing from Dickon when it comes to loyalty." Mother spoke, outstretching an arm to Richard. He moved to her, climbing onto her lap. She stroked his hair comfortingly, mewing quietly to him, calming him before she whispered. "Richard my sweeting, tell me what happened."

He wiped his eyes, part from his tiredness, part from tears I saw. "I awoke ma mere. Had a bad dream." Then he sounded like a child much younger than his eight years. I however did not scoff like George, who received another blow from me, and disapproving glances from the other adults. Richard looked to me, offering a watery smile. "There was a battle, Ned you lost. There was blood. So much blood and screaming. I could hear it, taste it." He shuddered, mother stroked his hair firmer. She was attempting to neaten his tousled locks. He pushed her hand away with a roughness none had expected. "It was passing strange." He paused. "I was a man full grown. The battle had been lost, we were fleeing. Like you fled at Ludlow." He looked to me. "I was searching for you. I found you Ned, I saw you and called out. You looked to me but did not come. I saw cousin Warwick and so did you. You went to him, I thought he would save you but he did not Ned, he did not!" He spoke to me, only me. As his eyes fixed on mine, I saw them alight with raw fear. My heart pounded. "He removed his helmet Ned, then took his sword and he ran it through you." Tears began to flow down his cheeks. He was catching his breath, rapid breaths heightening his voice. His eyes were wild, I wanted to reach for him but could not, George was too heavy upon my knee. "George was there too." George looked smug for only a short lived moment. "He has been with Warwick, he had conspired against you. He wanted to be King Ned. He wanted to kill you."

"Sweet Jesu, Dickon. Know it will not happen." I pushed George from my lap onto the floor as once father had done to me, failing to comfort him as I rose. Lifting Dickon into my arms as though he were as weightless as a pup. He nestled his head into the warmth of my doublet. 

"How can you know?" His voice was a shrill, panicked whisper.

"Because it has not, we are at peace and Dick Neville is our friend. He will not kill me."

Looking back, it seems almost queer I should have said that. I did not know how close it would come. Nor did I believe that George would be party as he deserved at me. 

I suppose my life is a lesson of what happens when you learn things too late.


	16. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's Coronation 
> 
> I am going to offer my normal apologetic line. The reason this update has taken so long is that my PhD and the realms of science have been calling me. 
> 
> *Please note I have not found a singular source which offers a good account of this. Thus I have had to search through several sources and get a sort of picture. The rest has been left both to my imagination and the accounts of Edward as a person and what my imagination could make with him. So this is by no means accurate of either a coronation ceremony or indeed Edward's own. 
> 
> So I hope it is okay. 
> 
> On an interesting side note, I did find a very interesting website with a copy of the scroll made in celebration of his coronation. So the inner history geek did a back flip. If any one else would like to see this, the website is below. 
> 
> http://libwww.library.phila.gov/medievalman/detail.cfm?itemID=mca2010002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All those times before  
> When I was just another face  
> Among the others  
> Keeping secrets to save myself  
> I could blend into the background  
> And savor the unknown  
> I could practice preservation  
> And hide behind this shell  
> But my god's unleashed  
> On a world that is falling down  
> My call is a beast that will not  
> Let me give up now  
> I know I'm all or nothing  
> Giving my illation  
> A little something to relax  
> All the others and decisions  
> Will make me go mad  
> There's no time to hear the arguments  
> Or simply close my eyes  
> I believe this confrontation  
> Deserves my full attention  
> When my god's unleashed on a world  
> That is falling down  
> My call is a beast that will not  
> Let me give up now  
> I know I'm all or nothing  
> I'm all or nothing"

_**Sunday 28 th June 1461.** _  
_**The Tower of London** _

_Do as I say, not as I do._

I had been warned that it would be bad luck to hold my coronation on the 28th of any month, or on a Sunday. Quite naturally, I had not listened to the advice and had proceeded with my planned coronation without a moments delay. We had arrived by barge at the Tower the night before where I, as was my duty, had bestowed honours on many men and knighted many more. Cousin Dick was down from the North, Johnny at his side. Warwick’s daughters Isobel and Anne Neville were dressed in gowns of the finest silk and had, until the an hour before we were due to ride out in procession, been keeping my wayward brother’s occupied. Now however, as Will in his newly bestowed post of Lord Chamberlain of England helped to adjust my scarlet robes, Dickon cried out forcing me to jump against my will.  
  
“He hit me! Ned he hit me!”  
  
“Sweet Jesu George, but can you not behave?” I hissed, brushing off Will’s hand as he rested it on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I would not need reassurance if my simpleton of a brother could for once compose himself with an ounce of dignity.” There was no shortage of bitterness in my tone, or my statement. George bristled, glaring at me from his seat across the room. I could see him mustering the courage to offer a terse reply. One that would doubtless test my patience. George had ever been the expert for doing that.  


“You have always preferred him! Why should I do as you say?”  
  
“Because he is King!” Richard snapped. I believe that my brothers did think me stupid. Looking back I find it difficult to not laugh at their foolishness. However, I am much distraught to admit that only one of them ever grew beyond such blatant stupidity. No matter, from the mirror’s reflection I saw Richard’s balled fist land cleanly against George’s jaw, causing him to scream in pain.  
  
Standing, I pushed Will aside, lifting a now sobbing George into my arms. “Richard!”

“He was questioning your authority! Papa would have done it!”

“You are not papa! And you are not me. You do not get to punch your brother. Not ever. If I choose to reproach George for his words then I shall. That responsibility is not yours.” I tightened my arms around George as he shuddered, trying so hard to stop his tears I knew.

Richard turned away from me then, standing he marched toward the door, stopped by our lady mother. “Richard.” Her voice was questioning, she looked back to me, kneeling she wiped what I assume to be tears from his eyes.  
  
“Mary mother of Jesus.” Ma mere glared at me as I cursed, putting George on his feet as I approached them. “Richard you are nearing eight now, you cannot cry when I do correct you.” I looked to ma mere once more as she tucked Richard under her arm. “Mother please, he struck George.”  
  
“Is this true Richard?” He nodded, bundling close to her. “You cannot hit your brother. Why did you hit him?”  
  
“He insulted Ned!” Richard shrieked, biting his thumb at George, instigated by our brother throwing a cushion at him.  
  
“George!” I gripped his ear, pulling him close. “Would you behave?”

“See ma mere?” Richard’s voice was suddenly self-assured, as I would know him to become. In that moment I will say it seemed queer that Richard of all should grow so serious, so confident. He had never been the loud one. I do suppose he had always had a quiet, almost sinister confidence. He would never gainsay, but he would always know. Richard has so often stood for morality, but a morality of his own making and no one else’s dictation. Though admirable, I have always argued it be dangerous.  
  
Mother sighed, her voice quiet as she looked between my brothers. “I see two naughty children whom if they continue may not be permitted to Westminster in the procession or at all. I have you all know that I am your mother, it is my decision and duty to discipline. Whilst Edward may be King, it is my decision who attends his coronation. Might I add that as children, it is not your right but a privilege, one earned not assumed.” I blinked twice. “Now my Lord Hastings, Margaret.” My sister stepped out from the shadows as silently as she had entered my chambers. I smiled as she waved, almost giddily, in complete ignorance of court etiquette. “Please return my children to their governess and have them dress for the procession. I wish to talk Edward alone.”  
  
My sister bobbed a curtsy, Will bowed deeply before each grabbed one of my brothers arms, taking them down the corridor and away from me. “Ma mere, they are just children. You would not truly have them miss the coronation? If I recall, I did worse at their age, with little punishment. Certainly not of such gravity.”

“See where that got you?” She smiled knowingly, extending a hand she pointed at the stool. I sat obediently, relaxing as she set to work. “No, I would not have them miss your coronation for the world.” She fell silent as she turned away, opening the chest my men had hauled in that morning. She looked much smaller, more fragile than I had recalled as she carried my ermine edged cloak to me. Resting it on my shoulders she sighed. “Your father, he never once told me, but I know he wanted this.” She nodded toward the fine fabrics. “Purple and ermine.” She smiled. “We are royalty now.”  
  
“We were royalty before.” I said the words too tersely. A reproach for which I felt a pang of regret.  
  
“Forgive me your grace.” She straightened the fabric. Taking an inhaled breath. “He wanted it for you. Lord he must have. He would not have made a strong King. Determined yes, but loved never. Edward, you must make the people love you.”  
  
“Ma mere they do-“  
  
“London loves you Edward, the north against you. Whilst you have the love of London and loyalty of the Welsh Marches, Wales and the north belong to Lancaster. Do not be fooled Edward. Their loyalty is more like to be won by Warwick than you.”  
  
“Then he will bring me the love of the North and serve me it on a platter if I so wish. I think you forget I am king ma mere.” I smiled in my attempt to force her to reciprocate. Instead she frowned.  
  
“I think you forget who put you there Edward.”

I would come to hate such a line. In that moment though I felt no such hatred for those words, nor the person to whom she inferred.  
  
“Ma mere, Dick Neville is a friend. He is my cousin and he is loyal. You warn me against one cousin and say I cannot trust another. Who am I to trust?”  
  
“No one.” The voice belonged to Will. I heard the door close behind him. Ma mere stepped back as he reached us. He fastened the golden chain of the cloak around my throat, pulling it loose. "I would advise a king against any man who can win more loyalty than himself." 

The irony of those words coming from Will is something I have never missed. He has ever been cynical. I would come to understand them as my life unfolded. I would see his wisdom and respect it. Yet I would do nothing until it was much too late. 

“Edward.” Mother’s voice cut back into my thoughts. “Henry’s problem was that he was mad. Innocent, but mad. Misguided also. He married a woman no one would love, and those who did would die for her. Edward, you need to gain the love of those who give her loyalty. Else what is to stop their devotion to Harry of Lancaster and his son? You will well know, a woman is a formidable enemy. A mother is one all the more dangerous. Do not think Margeurite is done, for she is not. You may be king now, tread lightly and be tender. Do not rule with iron fist and a sharpened axe, just do not stoke the fires either.”

She said nothing more as she turned and left. She did not have to. My heart thundered in my chest even before the drums began to beat outside the window.

 

***  


_**Westminster Abbey** _

We had proceeded through London with four hundred people in my train. It was generally a merry event, though the march was in itself rather sombre. I had been the victor at Mortimers Cross and Towton. I had the love of the people of London and I had, by birth and battle, rights to the crown. Unlike so many King’s before me however, my predecessor was not dead. Henry was very much alive. Though none could very well remember, all knew only too well the turbulent times after the second king Edward and later the second Richard abdicated by force only to be killed by their successors, or their courts. Whilst the French woman was not loved, there seemed to be a solemn knowledge spreading through England. King Henry would have to die for this war to truly be finished. No man wanted his part played in the killing of an anointed king. No matter how unpopular.

In affirming me their King, they were playing their part in the signing of Henry’s death warrant. They were fuelling this war until there was only one King remaining. They were risking the wrath of a thwarted Queen and a scorned mother.

No matter, the crowd had cheered my procession until I reached the steps of Westminster Abbey, where previously London had backed my cause. “Remove your boots.” Warwick spoke for the first time through our journey and I dutifully obeyed. He was the first to leave the litter, offering me a hand. I stepped onto the carpets as the men and women fell silent. All I heard was the pounding of my heart deep within my chest as I walked to the steps, falling on my knees before the Archbishop and the crowd. Bishop Bourchier rested a hand upon my head, turning he led me into the Abbey. Music filled my ears. I would look again to find that my men at arms had dispersed and I was alone in the isle, save for a man I knew so little. William Booth, Archbishop of York stood silently to my left.

“Edward Plantagenet, we are here today in your presence to witness as our lord and savoir the God Almighty bestow upon you the divine right of monarchy.” He stepped down the steps, slowly lowering his hand. Obedient, I sank to my knees on the cold tiles before him. “Do you swear to honour the right we bestow unto you?”  
  
“I do.”

“And do you in exchange for subservience now promise to protect the peace of the church and to defend the weak of the land?”  
  
“I do.” My mistake was that my eyes searched for Warwick, his scolding look sent my eyes back to the floor.

Bishop Bourchier smiled. For that I was thankful. “In so swearing will you act to prevent crime, thieving and looting. Will you honour an oath to restore order?”  
  
“I will.”

“Will you rule mercifully and be just but lenient in your reign?”  
  
“I will.”  
  
Archbishop Bourchier stepped back, William Booth offered an indication that my eyes should remain down cast. It seemed like an eternity in which Archbishop Bourchier readied himself, his hands raised slightly he faced the crowds. “Do you, the people of this Kingdom, want and accept such a ruler?”

“We wish it and grant it.” Was the echoed chant from the people in the Abbey. I did not smile. I did only as Warwick had instructed. I looked sombre, composed and dignified. Nothing could be read upon my features I knew. Confirmed as I saw Warwick’s smirk from the corner of my eye.

William Booth approached, offering a hand for me to raise before he led me to the throne. I sat. Archbishop Bourchier approached, handing the golden bowl to Archbishop Booth before he dipped his thumb into the oil. I do not recall it, but Will swears that it is true that I closed my eyes and would not open them for over a minute. Archbishop Bourchier ran his thumb expertly over my breast, shoulder, hands and arms. I heard them changing the bowl. I rested my hands on the thrones arms, exhaling softly as the consecrated oil drew across my forehead. It was not until the crown was upon my head that I opened my eyes.

My oaths sworn and anointed as King, I rose and began my slow walk from the Abbey behind the Archbishops. Will and Warwick behind me in silent obedience.

An obedience I had truly believed would last forever.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward meets Eleanor Butler at Westminster.

**The Palace of Westminster, London**

  
It was barely three months since my coronation and already I had grown bored of the countless audiences. The tireless mass of people begging forgiveness, asking favours and of course, wanting their lands returned. Many I had granted, for many had been Yorkists loyal to my cause whose lands had been confiscated by Lancaster. Others had been Lancastrians of questionable loyalty, who has sworn fealty to York in exchange for the return of their livelihoods. My mother's words had not yet slipped from my mind, as such I was returning more revenue than perhaps I could afford. There is however always one case which stands out from the crowd. One plead which no man, no King could ever forget. For me that was by a woman called Eleanor Butler. I would come to know her as Nel. I would come to know her very well. However as she entered the Hall at Westminster, the room fell silent. If only for my own body language. I leaned forward, mouth twitching up at the edges as the woman of unquestionable beauty sank onto her knees before me. "Your Grace."   
  
Her voice matched her beauty. Her dark hair I knew would fall to her lower back in a lush, soft wave. Her headdress however hid everything. Nothing could stop my imagination.   
  
"Madam." I tried to keep my voice level, to mask my attraction.   
  
Warwick I knew saw through my behaviour. He had before already spoken to me of my excesses of the flesh. Had preached of my need to limit myself to those who could be easily discarded as insignificant. He would not have the reputation of his golden boy tarnished. 

"I am afraid I do not bring to you anything you will not already have heard." She smiled lightly. A sad smile which in that moment tore the heart from my chest and stamped on it. I gulped. Whatever quick wit might have settled within me was gone. I simply nodded, unable to speak as my tongue felt leaden within my mouth. "It is simply yet another case of a poor widow."   
  
"Tell me madam." I rose slowly as she looked around the room, taking in the men who surrounded me. Approaching her I offered her a hand, raising her from her knees. "Would you like a smaller audience?" I whispered, hesitating to release her hand. All until she pulled it away from me as she nodded. I stepped back. "You are all excused. Will. Not you. You may stay my lord." I saw them all pause, looking uncomfortable. After several moments however we were alone, except for Will's silent presence on one of the benches. "Do not feel shy. There is not a thing you cannot say before Will. Not if you would say it to me."   
  
Her blush confirmed it all. It was not for Will that she was hesitating. Her anxiety did not stem from speaking before an audience, rather from speaking to me. I held my patience, sitting upon a bench and leaning against the wall. 

"I am the widow of a Lancastrian." It did not come a surprise. Though her words sent regret running through me. How could such a treasure have fallen to Lancaster? "I do remember before this war happened. You see my lord father was the Earl of Shrewsbury." She smiled softly to me.   
  
"What did you say your name was?" Will spoke, he leaned forward.   
  
"Eleanor Butler." When no flicker of recognition passed over my chamberlains face she sighed. "nee Talbot."  
  
"Lord." Will's word was a soft exhale.   
  
"I thought I did recognise you." I smiled. "Take a seat my lady." I stood, allowing her to take my place. "What happened to your lands?"  
  
"Tis not so much my father's lands your grace. Rather my late husbands. My father-in-law-"  
  
"Lord Seudley?" Will muttered.   
  
She nodded and continued. "When my husband died he took them from me. In turn your grace I hear you took them from him."  
  
"That sounds familiar." I looked to Will who nodded. As treasurer to so many things, Will has always been more aware of the affairs of the crown and by default my own actions than I had time to recall. "It seems that rings true. You would like them returned?"  
  
"I would only ask for charity and my right."  
  
"It indeed seems reasonable. Did Lord Seudley have reason to take them?" She said nothing, looking to the floor. "By that I mean are you an adulterous? Was your marriage annulled? Come you can tell me."   
  
"I find your questions indelicate." She snapped for the first time since she had entered my presence. Her meek exterior was torn away to reveal the strength of the lion hidden within her. 

"I am trying to understand your claim, so as to best serve you." I sounded flustered, Will's look confirmed that. 

"I was not an adulteress, I did not obtain and annulment. Does that please your grace?"   
  
No, it did not. I nodded however.   
  
"I see no reason the lands cannot be returned. They were removed from your father in law, not you." Will spoke. I did not need to be told twice. Will had always had the sense for the both of us. "Return tomorrow, three o'clock. His Grace will see you. We will draw up the documents for your signature."   
  
"I thank you my lord." The smile that broke onto her face lit up the room more than the sun beaming through the tall windows. I hardly noticed as she left, though my eyes were fixed on her retreating figure. The door closing broke me from my trance.   
  
"You had better know what you are doing Edward. That woman is not common whore, she is innocent and good, she is pious and she is vulnerable. But she is powerful and she can cause you harm."  
  
"Will I do not want the woman."  
  
He scoffed. "I would recognise the look on your face anywhere. I warn you that you are not in love with her. No matter what you think." 

 

***

 

Despite my denial, I knew he was right. As Eleanor approached the following afternoon I felt the desire rise up in me. I took the cloak from her shoulders, handing it to one of the boys loitering in the anti-chamber. "I am glad you came my lady." She smiled. "Naught could have made me happier."  
  
"I come only about my claim your grace, but if that does make you happy then it is with delight I am here."   
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

I do suppose rejection had always tasted bitter to me. Consequently, it was something that I did not take well. Whether that had something to with my status, or how few times people seemed to reject my advances, much less disagree with what I said I cannot say. No matter, it had been three weeks since Dame Eleanor had rejected me at Westminster, since she had made it so clear that she neither wanted me nor would she have me. An anger still sat within me and a sadness was so obviously visible. Whether I should have been shocked when Will Hastings sauntered into my presence, with a cocky 'I'm too proud' smile upon my face I do not know. 

"Silver Street." Will said the words reluctantly. He sat opposite me as I looked up, my glance quizzical. He smiled. "You wished to know where she lives. Eleanor Butler. I obliged." He pushed a letter across the table to me. I saw it was addressed to her. "She is staying at Silver Street. East Chepe. I'd insist on an escort if you-"

"You intercepted her letter?" My eyes widened, but lips twitched up into a none too innocent smirk. He nodded and shrugged, his smile finally breaking into a chuckle as I softly mumbled. "Genius. You ever were a smart man Will. My father underrated your uses it does seem. So few talents like these you brought to me in the classroom in Ludlow."

"I did not wield the same power." He paused. "I would still advise you use it with care."

"Do I sense that you are attempting to chastise me for my habits Will? If so save your strength. I have enough to do that in Johnny and my dearest mother. I do not need you also."

"Would it not be hypocritical of me to scold for your love of women." I whooped with laughter. In truth I had forgotten Lord Hastings countless infidelities. He had not made effort to curb his excesses when Warwick and John Neville had begun to pursue him as a worthy and suitable husband for their widowed sister. Will's philandering I knew stemmed from the death of his first wife, childless and thus without an heir. No matter how John scolded, Will made no effort to remove his numerous favourite harlots from bed. So indeed he was right, he was in no position to warn me off the desires of the flesh. Unlike ma mere, and so many of my Neville kindred, little piety could be found in Will. That was not to say the man is shameless. Rather he sees no harm in submission to desire. "I simply warn you off a woman of noble birth if you do tend to discard her." His words interrupted my reminiscing. I frowned, leaning back in the chair, observing him over arms crossed tightly over my chest. "You are king he do suppose." He mused to himself but aloud. "Mayhap your intentions are truly honourable." He smirked. Turning away, only to pause by the door. "Edward. I know you will not listen, please tell me before you leave."

"Never." I chuckled. 

***

I had been walking through London, toward Chepeside when I stopped. I knew the hooded figure had been following me since St Paul's. In truth I knee I should not have been surprised as the man caught up with my now halted pace. Less so as he lowered his hood. "Did I tell you not to come?" 

"Did I tell you I would not listen?" His voice was as amused as my own. 

"No." I shook my head. "Very well my Lord. Since you are here, it seems fruitless turning you away now."

We said nothing more as we walked in silence. Will stiffened as we approached Silver Street. The confined buildings three, sometimes four stories high. Many of them a century ago would have been silversmiths. Now too many were bakers and minor merchants of little significance. Did it surprise me that a lady of such standing would be lodged in such an area? Yes. Did it brother me in the slightest? No. Unlike Will I fear, my youthful ventures had shown me all sorts. 

I did not pause as I continued my progress. Seconds later I heard him running to meet me. "Edward." I smirked, hearing his tone remove all inflections of superiority. My name the only give away of my identity. "Are you-" he fell silent as we past a group of men. Each fell silent, staring at us as we passed. I felt him move a hand to his belt and dagger as he sniffed the stench of beer, his eyes fixing upon the bullock knife each man had. "Briggands." He muttered. 

"Now now Will." I soothed. "Judge not lest ye be judged." 

He eyes widened. The smile of amusement on his face so so far from the tone his voice offered. "And they judged alright. Judged us to be easy pickings for their thieving."

I chuckled, shook my head. "You are fearful? Truth? Ha! Will, do you think a group of Briggands as you title them would have a chance against soldiers like us?" 

"I reckon they might. Two against ten. Do you not see the attraction?" He saw my face I knew. "Youth." He muttered. "You do not yet see the sanctity of life, nor reason or sense. This is not Towton Edward. They know not who you are and likely do not much care." He inhaled as he was greeted by my silence. It seems queer now to think that Will was nervous, so off guard in the street that night. Little I suppose did we know of the path which lay before us, or where it might take us. "You quoted the bible?" His feet had come to a stop as he muttered it.

I stopped, sighed as I turned back to him. "What of it?" 

"Naught. Cept I do reckon your mother would admire it. Until she could see where she would have to find you to offer such! Then you can be right sure she'd judge." He chuckled. "Now back here lad. I did not stop for my leisure." I walked back to the door by which he stood, suddenly nervous as he knocked. It was several moments before the door opened and an aging man peered out. 

"Yes?" He snapped. I looked to the window above, seeing the faintest flicker of a candle through the shutters. 

 

"Apologies good sir." Will spoke. His eyes alert and looking anywhere but that door. I soon saw why. The men we had passed were making their way toward us. He tensed, hand on the hilt of his dagger. I copied. "We have come to see the lady of the house."

"My lady does not take audience at this hour. Not especially with unannounced men. She is a good Christian, does not wish for your type." 

Just what I needed. This grave situation too seemed futile. 

"I rather think she may feel differently, should she realise the calibre of her guests. As may you should you realise that to refuse us now would be catastrophic." Will continued, his pleas turning to authority as I drew my dagger. 

"I do not like your tone sirrah. Now food night." Will did not get his chance to speak again as the door slammed closed. 

"Judge not lest ye be judged eh?" He muttered, drawing his sword. My eyes fixed on it blade. Rather annoyed that I had been so mindless as to leave my sword at the palace as I refused escort. 

Within the house I heard several doors slam closed. The old man had returned to bed. I groaned, weighing up the situation as I looked at the advancing men. Their faces now visible, showing their intent to harm as they closed the gap between us. I heard will mutter a prayer, stepping in front of me as I felt their feet on the ground. "I demand you stop in the name of King Edward and the kings peace." Will raised his voice. 

Their response was a laugh. "Do you not think if the king were in east Chepe we would not know? Do you see a royal 'retinue? We could have your blood spilled and be away before the kings men came to end it. None would miss you when you were dead." 

"How wrong you are." I retorted. 

"Step aside sirrah." They spoke to Will alone now, their eyes dark with hatred. "We will not hurt you if you hand over the boy." Will tensed. They walked again. Looking up to the window I saw only darkness. Cursing silently. We were alone. 

It was in that moment however,as I heard the blade of a dagger scrape against Will's sword, and felt the warmth of blood trickle down my arm as a blade sliced skin, that door opened and sudden light was cast onto the street. Stunned, our attackers stepped back. "Inside, both of you." 

The woman's voice brought more relief to me than I had ever thought possible. I stumbled as Wills strong hand pulled me up into the house. I hit the floor as the door slammed closed behind me. 

It took several moments before I clambered to my feet, only to raise a hand to cushion my cheek as her slap radiated off ny skin in a hot, stinging sensation. "That was foolish, and idiotic." Her tone was cold, her words directed at Will, who shrugged. "You could have died! Walking around at night like that, practically unarmed." I noticed her high pitched words were raised by worry, not anger. Her narrow eyes and delicate shaking hands confirming her distress. 

She slapped me again as I began to chuckle, glaring as it became a laugh. I had only noticed, as she stood there, that she had stood shouting in her night gown. 

"I do not find this amusing. Nor I feel would England. It was reckless. What on earth were you doing?"

"I had come to see you. I see it is much unappreciated." I snapped. My laughing suddenly stopped. 

"You visit unexpectedly, I did not know you knew where I was housed." Her tone softened. Her eyes lightening as Will approached, lifting my arm as he leaned his sword against the wall. "You're bleeding." She took my arm from Will's grasp. "They cut you?"

"A scratch." I shrugged, wincing as she ran a thumb across the broken skin. 

"Charles!" I had feared the old man would return. Instead a young boy no more than ten emerged. "Fetch bandages to my chambers. Some wine also I think." The child vanished as quickly and quietly as he had appeared. "Come your grace." I followed her through the house. 

"The boy he is-"

"The bakers son. He was. The old man baker died in March. He marched to Towton. Died from his injuries shortly after." She did not sound annoyed, did not need to as I frowned. Would the daughter of the earl of Shrewsbury understand the necessity of war? The need for bloodshed and ultimately for death? By her expression I rather felt she did not. Confirmed I feared as she spoke. "Left the mother penniless. She could not afford to feed the children. The daughter was married off in June. As for Charles, I took him into my household for a moderate sum."

"Is it not time he was a bed? He is so young." 

No older than Dickon, who I knew would be asleep in Middleham. 

"Mayhap." She sat me on the bed in her chamber, removing my doublet before she rolled up my shirts sleeve with the tenderness of any mother. Charles reemerged, liadened with bottles and rags. A smirk crossed my lips as I saw Will to be making himself useful. 

Will sat beside me, putting the bowls on the bed. "I will not hurt him Lord Chamberlain. He is not a wounded pup, nor a child he does not need an attendant." I nodded as he looked to me. Eleanor smiled, squeezing my wrist. "You will find refreshments in the kitchens my Lord. If you speak with Catherine my maid she can likely fix you some supper." Obediently, Will left without a word, Charles at his side. 

Eleanor stepped away. Pouring wine onto one of the rags, dabbing at my arm. "Lay down your grace." She soothed, beginning to wrap the remaining rags tight around my arm as I swung my feet onto the bed, resting my head on the silk pillows. She cleared away the remnants of her handiwork, next turning her attention to removing my boots before she sat beside me. "Why did you want to see me your-"

"Edward, please." The reluctance was as obvious on her face as was her youth. She did however agree as she nodded. "You are a beautiful woman Eleanor-"

"Nell."

"Nell. So beautiful. I could not force you from my thoughts."

"So you forced your way into my bed? Always the gentleman." Her wry smile was all that hinted at her underlying humour. I shrugged. Though naught could have prepared me for her next action. None could have foretold that she would prove so free to submit. She leaned across me, her head lingering on my chest as her lips connected with mine.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is not as good as it could be. Having a pretty hard time at the moment.

****

Her eyes were a blazing green as they bore into me. Despite her obvious anger, she curtsied low. “Your Grace-“

“Edward.” I mouthed.

“To what do we owe such a pleasure my liege?” The bakers expression was one akin to an excited puppy. “We make great pies, and the bread is they say suffices. It’s not often we sell our finest loaves, nor make them for that matter. I could have the wife make some and my son deliver-“

I tossed him three gold coins. “To Westminster tonight. Whatever one of those will buy and the other two to forget I was ever here.” The man nodded I saw, returning to the back room as I followed Nell from the shop.

“You shouldn’t have come.” She snapped, stamping her foot as she stormed down the street.

“I have news of your claim.” I retorted, equally as snappy.

“You could have summoned me to Westminster.” She murmured, stopping to look back at me.

“Would you have come?”

She nodded. "You do not learn your lesson do you my lord?" Her eyes were fixed on my arm, where the cotton of my shirt covered the bandage she had made. "You'd better come in I do suppose." She opened the door to her house, entering first, she closed the door behind me. "My claim?"

"I've granted it."

"That could have come in a letter. You did not need to galavant around London and into my personal life."

"Mayhap I simply wanted to see you Nell." She stopped, looking back at me. A smile broke on her lips, one so beautiful it made my heart thunder.

"You flatter me." I shook my head, she reciprocated."I am the widow of a man you declared a Lancastrian traitor. Why would you wish to see me?"

"Because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Nell, sweet lord but I have tried to forget you. Yet I cannot stomach the thought of a life without you. If you are not beside me, then I would as well take sickness and it could happily take me to death because I will not breathe if you say no Eleanor."

I do not know what I expected from her. A laugh however was most surprising. No matter, laugh escaped my lips as I joined the harmony of her music like giggle.

Her laugh stopped as sudden as a it had started.   
  
"If I say no to what? What is it you propose?"  
  
"I must know you Nell."  
  
"There are many pretty women you could know my lord. Why me?"   
  
"Nell. Sweet Nell." I sighed.   
  
"I am not a harlot sir." She shook her head, beginning to walk to her

residence in Silver Street. "I do not simply lay with a man."   
  
"I do not expect you would." I sighed. "Come to Westminster in the morrow.

There I will prove to you that I do not think you a harlot."   
  
She looked at me with sceptical eyes. A smile soon breaking on her lips.   
  
"In truth?"   
  
I nodded. Whatever my plan, I had not expected what happened the

following day. As she closed the door to her Silver Street residence

before I could set foot on the steps to it.   
  
  
****  
  
**Westminster Palace**   
  
Bishop Stillington sat silently by the fire. He did not look at me as I dressed hurriedly. I had dismissed Will the previous night, telling him to take this day as leave. He had not been happy, though I knew he wouldnot approve. It would be many years, in a drunken confession that he would know the truth of what happened in that morning.  
  
The tension in the room was almost tangible as Stillington shifted his weight when the knock came on my door. Of course, I had not told him of my intentions. Yet I believe he knew. There were only a handful of reasons why I would have roused a priest in the night, fewer that I would have called upon a bishop. As Stillington had learnt I was not dead, his suspicions led to only one other thing.   
  
He broke the silence when he coughed, clearing his throat and dispatching his nerves before he spoke. "An unannounced marriage is an ominous affair your grace."   
  
I didn't respond to him. Instead it was to the chaplain who had opened the door who received my attention. "Bring her in."   
  
When Eleanor arrived I was speechless. Her dark blue dress swept the floor, behind her was ladies maid to carry her trail. Stillington rose as she approached and I fell to my knees. "My Lady Eleanor." Robert spoke in a gentle tone. His eyes averted as I kissed her hand.

 

Her rebuttal was almost painful She snapped her hand away as quickly as if I had been hot iron. As though my touch had burnt her. She spoke her next words with a tone holding both authority and supremacy. So much so I blinked surprise. "I have brought my maid with me to act as witness to whatever may happen today. I trust you will not mind?"

"No. I do not. Of course I do not." From the corner of my eye I saw Stillington's smirk.

"So you do not think to simply just know me?" She walked past me in a way not dissimilar to my mother as she walked to the chair which sat by the burning fire. A chair usually reserved only for myself. It was not however something I begrudged her.

"No."

"Then what are your intentions?" Her voice was quiet, gentle. Somehow it seemed as though my words could be her undoing, her demise.

 _"I would marry you Nell."_ Stillington choked, though he said nothing. Eleanor's breathe hitched within her throat. "That is of course if you would consent to wed me?"

Her pause made my heart pound. "Of course I do consent." I cannot recall how I felt when she jumped into my arms, or as our lips connected or within the hour as away from the sight of her maid and Stillington we made love. I do not recall even how I felt as she left through the halls of Westminster undetected, or as Will walked into my chambers. I have tried to rid myself of the memory of Nell. If only because it hurts too much. If only because it pains me to know how I did her wrong. Did I know in that moment however that this would be our last meet? I think I did. It was Will's suggestion that she be sent to the Abbey when news came that she was with child. She did not say a word and I bless her soul for that. Our betrothal would remain secret for the several years that would pass before her untimely death, and my drunken confession to Will as we sat deep in cups and reminiscent in a Burgundian tavern.


	20. Chapter 20

It was three months since my promise had rung false on my marriage for Eleanor. I returned to my chambers in merry humour one night, only to see Will sat by the fire, his face red not from the heat but anger. He did not pause, did not hesitate to raise to his feet, clearing the space between us in a time I could not have anticipated a man of his stature achieving. No matter, his fists clenched in visible anger. I did only fear that he would strike me not for my inability to stop him, but rather for the already strong pang of guilt that I would need to lay hand upon him. In those days Will and I had nothing of the friendship which today we cherish. He was less a brother and more a loyal servant. Moreover he was a loyal servant of my father, loyal to me only because of his fealty to the House of York. Since those days so close to Towton, he had proven himself a worthy advisor, methodological and dogged, he left nothing to chance. That alone had seen his promotion in my household to Lord Chamberlain of England. An act strengthened by the Neville's will to marry my young cousin Katherine to him.

Several seconds past before he remembered himself enough to step away. "What in Gods name-" I snarled. He held up a hand. The anger had not left his face. It was however dwindling into a pain which stemmed from compassion.Compassion I would soon see for two people.

"She is with child." His teeth grated as he said the words.

"Who?"

"Eleanor. She is not a doxy and I told you. She is of noble birth and is with child. You may dismiss her as much as you please yet she claims it is yours. You lay with her?"

"I do not think it concerns you."

"It does if England is at stake Edward." He said it with a sigh. Each word weighted with anxiety. His hands shook as he poured wine without my bidding. One cup then another. He did not pass the second. Only downed them both before he refilled them. "The girl is pious. She would not simply lay back and let you bed her for sport. There was some agreement?"

"No." I snapped.

He sighed. Shaking his head he returned to his table, retrieving the letter in her hand. "Let me read this. Sit." He indicated to the chair before the fire. I sat, looking at him with intent eyes. I laugh as I picture it. I looked not dissimilar to a small boy being reproached for pulling his sisters hair. My hands clasped in my lap, I was almost nervous. Was I surprised when Will looked at the words and sighed, handing the parchment to me instead of reading it himself? Yes. I expected to be reproached like a child. Instead I think he spared my dignity. I read the words without interest. Until in the last sentence I saw it.

'And since his Grace has since declined my audience these last three months, I retreat with his blessing to the convent of White Carmelites. There I shall have my child, and his Grace shall be free to wed in my silence.'

My blood ran cold. Shock and panic in equal measures coursed through me. Will heeded it little attention as I dropped the letter to the floor. "Free to wed in her silence, she is pregnant and the child she claims is yours. Which I could sorely disbelieve cept' you pursued her. She does not mention the child is a bastard and is holy enough to be a nun? Jesu Edward but you must understand why I think there was an agreement?"

"And there was not! God damn it there was not!"

I saw the disbelief on his face before it cleared in a moment. Sympathy replaced it before he moved, kneeling to pick up the letter he tossed it into the fire. "It upsets you that the lady is gone?" I nodded. "Then why refuse her so long? Unless you say she denied you?" I said nothing. Staring at the flames blankly. I hoped for something, anything. Though it was not how it is now. I am thankful no demon rose itself from the fire. Mayhap I was not truly riddled with guilt. I do not doubt that I did not much care when I thought of it. The fire sat crackling and nothing moved except the shivering of the parchment as it shrunk and burnt. Devoured by the flames. It was only as Will spoke once again that I snapped from my trance. "Where is your doublet?"

"Hmm? Oh. Oh. I don't know."

He sighed, sitting opposite me. "There is the stench of alcohol on you, it is the small hours of the morning and you are dressed like a common peasant. Some do already make mockery of you. They say in the taverns of London that all should be on guard, for the King of England is without his shirt again, and your mother is quite frankly out of her whits." He snapped wiping the smirk from  
my face. "They dare to joke that it is the women who should carry coin so that when they do see you they can offer silver for your time. Yet who is to dispute such jests or call it treason? Edward there is naught wrong with a young man having a healthy appetite for sex. Yet take care. You are king and you rule after a man so prudish that women did send him catatonic. I have so far kept Warwick and your mother from your door with their concerns but not for much longer. Because you are king does not mean you can simply do as you please and the consequences be damned. No. You must act like a king in order to receive the privilege and respect which does accompany. Your good father knew that. He was firm and steadfast and lord he did not bed all the harlots of England and half of the wives. Do you understand me?"

I nodded. My eyes fixed on him. I cannot remember how I felt, except for knowing that all made sense.

He looked away from me, about to retreat when I spoke. "Her name is Eliza." He looked back, confusion on his then young face. I cleared my throat and continued. Confiding in him that which I believed I had no obligation to. "Her name is Elizabeth Lucy. She isn't a harlot." Will raised an eyebrow. I raised a hand. "I may have bedded her but she shall be my mistress."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains scenes of a sexual nature

I was holding court at Windsor when Eliza's arrival caused a stir. It had been an unexpected, unprecedented affair for which I had not prepared. It was indeed quite without etiquette, and for some time it remained outside of my attentions. Closeted deep within my apartments, alone and deep in cups with Will, my cousins presence was less than welcome as he burst into my chambers unannounced. The presence of Elizabeth Lucy did not serve to interest me more in offering audience. The expression of Warwick's face as he followed her into the chamber was one of defiance. Anger filling his eyes as he escorted her to my bed, she sat silently. I said nothing as I looked at him, motioning for Will to sit as he acted in my defence. "You think little enough of etiquette to make a harlot of a lady? Without consulting me!" Warwick spat in a tone of pure disgust.

A tone which to my own surprise, amused me greatly. Of course I knew the twitching smile which threatened to break upon my lips displeased him greatly. "She is not my harlot, and I am not married. My affairs as you may call them are of little concern to you cousin." He glared at me. "Which bothers you more cousin? That I have taken a lady as a mistress, or that I have not consulted you?"

"Edward how absurd! Your mistresses are of my concern if a lady makes their way unannounced to your bed." Warwick's eyes bore into Will as he approached Eliza, offering to take her cloak before he offered her a hand in escort from the chamber. It was not until his return that my cousin spoke again. Not caring enough to see the door close before he opened his mouth. "Did you know he had, a lady of such standing as, whatever she is?"

"His mistress?" Will's tone was a level calm behind the amusement written in his eyes. "Yes, I was aware."

"You did not see it fit to tell me?"

"I did not see why you had need to know." Will shrugged, seemingly nonplussed by my cousins aloof arrogance. "I am chamberlain and as you are kept busy enough with Calais and your other tasks, and I remain the kings chief and closest advisors, I believe his passions are of my concern and not yours my lord."

"I am his cousin, and-"

"And you are not his mother, nor his father. As I am and was acquainted closely with both, far more closely I might add than both yourself and his grace,  
I know they would approve of my decisions and would not question my prerogative, nor my morals and on this they would not stand to question my authority."

I looked between the men, amusement gone from my face.

"Neither of you should question mine." I growled as Warwick's lips pursed to respond. "It is my decision do you hear me?"

Eliza appeared, her face peeking around the door. She smiled at me, eyes downcast as Warwick's gaze turned to her. "Come in cherie." I smiled as I spoke, offering a hand to her as I pulled her onto my knee. Instantly her head buried in my neck. I think that whilst she may have been one of the most defiant women I knew, she feared Warwick and more importantly his wrath and influence.

"Edward." Warwick sighed, looking between myself and Will before he smiled at Eliza. "My lady, you need not feel fear." I heard him growl as he looked back at me, the smile dropped from my lips. "You on the other hand-"

"Sir." Eliza's voice cut above Warwick's. His eyes widened slightly but he said nothing as she looked at him. "I do not see the objection."

"Madam. You are a lady, of high standing. You deserve a man who can offer commitment.A man who will not discard-"

"My lord." Her voice was gentle, her smile dazzled. "With respect, I am a widow and have had a marriage. As I am without parents with a brother who cares little, my will is now my own. I am not some whore or harlot. I do not think it your choice and I do not believe it your place to insist his grace ask your permission. He is king, is not accountable to you for his... Bed sport."

"My lady forgive me." Warwick's expression was akin to chastised child's. "It is only your protection I wish, your honour I serve."

"As I must repeat it seems, my honour is not at risk my lord and he." She looked to me. "Has not stolen my virtue. If aught, Mayhap I have stolen his."

Will spluttered wine across the room to avoid choking as he held back a laugh.

Eliza continued undeterred as both Warwick and me glared at Will.

"I am quite capable of making my own decisions. One on which I am informed. I am not a woman quite without thought or opinion. I am sure you respect that my lord, the Neville women as formidable as they are in holding and expressing such opinions of free will."

"And piety." Will muttered, looking at the floor as Warwick's glare became icy. It was obvious of what Will spoke. His marriage to Katherine Neville then being new and to her, rather unwelcome.

Warwick looked back to us sighing. "Then madam, my job is done and I bid you both good day." No matter how Eliza smiled, no matter how her eyes said it would be okay, I knew as Warwick stalked from the room, tail between his legs, that this was far from over.

The look Will and I shared only served to confirm it.

Xxx

It was later that night. Will had been dismissed and Eliza laid next to me, her head rested on my bare chest, her hand rubbing my stomach. Her fingers occasionally tugging on hair as she gently kissed my skin. It was her break from this, the feeling of her naked breasts pulling away from me which alerted me to her desire to be heard. "Edward." She soothed, her hand resumed her toying, moving slowly south of my stomach. The groan escaped my lips before I could control it. I bit my lip as she smiled. "You must not be so defensive with my lord Warwick. He only wishes what is best for you."

"I am not child." My attempt to sound authoritative failed as she maintained the smooth, slow rhythm of her hand. I knew I sounded petulant, like I was disproving my own point. That however did not stop me continuing. "He treats me as though I am."

"You can prove you are not by more than throwing your weight around. It is not all about titles or authority." She sighed, kissing my chest as she sensed my tension, my irritation. "It I about patience, intelligence and cunning. Edward you are no fool. You are the most intelligent man I know. You are youthful and quick. You must pick the battles you can wins and know the ones you cannot. That does not mean you must surrender to Warwick's will. I would never ask that of you. I'd for naught more than I do not believe you would obey." She smiled a sad smile as she looked at me. Her hand slowing to a stop momentarily."You must instead choose who you wish to stand by your side, and who will be there to help you win. You must prove to Warwick you have more than an appetite for sex and pleasure. You are so much more, do not under sell yourself. He wants nothing more than to rule through you. You are letting him. Curb your emotions. You are so young, it may be so difficult. Yet if you do not." She trailed off, replacing her words with a deep, passionate kiss before her hand resumed it's rhythm. This time moving faster until my mind was absorbed in the pleasure she offered.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Fangirl2013 :) My beautiful fiancee for her contribution to this chapter :)

I stood before Eliza. A frown was on her face as she bit into her pink lips. It had taken hours to find her and now, she barely wanted me near her. My kisses had been plentiful and Eliza had accepted them willingly. Her little body obviously full of fire. 

Despite the desire I had created within her, she stiffened in my arms as I started to undress her. She'd never before reacted in such a way. As my actions stopped, she shrugged out of my embrace. 

She turned to look at me and after gulping quickly as if to gain courage, she reached to the laces holding her dress together. 

She deftly pulled the laces apart before letting her heavy gown fall to her feet. It took me a few moments to realise the small almost unnoticeable bump that was beginning to form. It was my turn to gulp. 

It was my baby within her and for the life of me, I had no idea how to respond. I could see Eliza was worried. Her lovely eyes was full of apprehension. The desire to comfort her, to take her in my arms again filled me. Following that desire, I took her in my arms tightly. 

She let out a sigh of relief as she buried her head in my bare chest. Within moments it was clear to me that she was listening to my heart beat. It was something she had never done before. I couldn't fathom why. 

Eliza soon became tearful which took me by surprise. My passionate Eliza was not the type to take to tears. Good or bad. My voice held surprise as I asked if she was alright.

"What's the matter?" Was she unhappy because of being with child? Was it me? The questions panicked me but I had to consider them. Despite the uneasiness they created in me. 

Eliza shook her head at my question. Her long flowing hair moving rapidly with the shake. It made me smile at the sight. 

"Nothing is wrong, I assure you." 

 

*** 

Her tone had confirmed that she had she had been happy for my approval. That my lack of visible worry had been all she had needed for comfort. As I crept into my chambers at Westminster Palace, eager to avoid a repeat of Will’s interrogations, worry filled me to the deepest core of my being. Enough that my covert progress through my apartments was rounded to a halt as with shaking hands, I dropped the goblet containing the wine I had been pouring. The pewter crashed against the stones in a horrific noise. One which instantly alerted the company in my anti-chamber to my presence. 

Within seconds the door opened. I can only imagine the sight I must have made, kneeling, head ducked on the floor as I tried to mop the wine with rushes. “Your Grace, let me.” The voice was one oddly familiar, and not the deep tones of Will’s voice which I had expected, nor the cold authority in Warwick’s. Instead he sounded oddly like my father. Had I expected to see George kneel beside me, so willing to help? No, not even in his sweetest youth had George been anything I would have described as either helpful or fearful. He had never been one to heed my authority, nor or anything but his own greed and ambition. That was possibly my reason for faulting as I knelt, looking to him in blatant curiosity before I was pulled to my feet. 

The hand which had pulled me with such startling strength was not that of my chamberlain, but rather of someone so often absent from my court. John Neville cut a dashing figure that night, so little had I seen him in my youth or after that I neglect the occasions he seemed run down. Despite the darkness being heavy and the hour growing late, Johnny looked as though it were still noon in spring, and the lambs skipped merrily whilst the flowers brightened the world in colour. His smile was always one more welcoming than the almost sinister undertones of his brothers welcomes, his hand clapped on my back was a gesture I neither minded nor resented. A smile broke on my face if I recall. All until his whispered words registered behind my ears. “Aunt Cecily is awaiting you. Right shocked was she when my brother, Sir William, did tell her that you were away.”

“I was in London.” I snapped, glaring at him in a manner he did not deserve. As was so common for John he took it in good humour, laughter escaping his curved up lips as he looked at me. 

“Tis not me you need to explain yourself to lad. Do not fear, Dick is away. Too busy at his castle in Warwick I do believe. It seems his uses for me have worn thin cousin. Much like you felt in Calais I am sure, I feel like a nuisance to my oldest.” He paused, pain flashed across his face in a rare acknowledgment of his own emotion before he gulped, swallowing I assume the pain he still held for those lost at Wakefield. “Older brother.” 

My hand clasped gently on his bicep, the only brief gesture of comfort he would get from me that day. The only gesture I knew a man of his pride would accept. He nodded his acknowledgement before I spoke again. “I am fourteen years your brother’s junior Johnny. I do doubt you understand the pain-“

“Tis not age but pride that bothers Dick, Ned.” He smirked, his attention briefly returning George as he placed the cup on the table. Johnny held up has hand as the child tried to re-join us. “Dick has pride to exceed a lion. I say naught of it to him, but in his mind, none do stand up to his knowledge and experience since my lord father’s death at Sandal. Mayhap before, I’d wager.” John smiled at George, offering his approval for my middle brother to follow his will. “Dickon does fair well though.”   
Inwardly I cursed at John’s wry tone. How had I been so foolish as to forget to ask of my brother’s well being? Since I had enlisted him in the care, education and services of my cousin Warwick, Dickon had all but slipped from my mind. I said nothing of him as I smiled at Johnny, looking to the door ahead as the cold hand of dread gripped me again. I recalled Eliza’s words. Her pregnancy. 

“You may leave us Johnny, if that does please. You have a wife-“

“Who remains in Yorkshire.” He shrugged. 

“You are in charge of my brother George, are you not?” He saw my anxiety, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“I do believe the young duke does not much care if I am Ned. He will not heed me. Besides, your lady mother has told him tonight he may have his will. Seen as though you so clearly do. She reckons he should follow by influence.” 

I splutter and choke to think of it now. That I should have been so poor a role model as to lead him so thoroughly astray. Yet I convince myself daily that it was not my influence which poisoned George’s mind. Rather my own neglect of him and the neglect of my own responsibilities to the child he was then, which led to the man he would become. 

John accompanied me into the room as we progressed into my mothers presence. Will rose as we entered the room, ma mere did not. She did little more than lift her head in acknowledgement of my presence. Her hand rested on my head as I knelt before her for the blessing she knew I would crave. “Edward, the hour is growing late. You have kept me waiting.”

“I knew nothing of your impending visit ma mere.”

“Lady mother will suffice Edward. You are too old to offer me your affections to curb my anger.” Her eyes held mine as I rose slowly. My lady mother did ever rule with an iron fist. So I recalled through my childhood, little changed into my adult years. She was a woman accustomed to getting her own way, and wielded maternal authority with force enough to cause more damage than the blow of any sword in battle. “You knew well I assure you, I had sent letters-“

“Aunt, might I suggest they went astray?” John’s voice interrupted us as he took a seat close to the fire. 

“Very well.” She did not question him. If John had inherited only one thing from my mother’s bloodline, it was his ability to end a conversation with a simple tone. He left no room for quarrel when he wished to express his authority. “Where were you my son?”

“I was away in London.” I said, my words quiet. 

“Alone?” Mother’s eye brow rose to her forehead. Her look was of fear and suspicion in equal measures. My nod brought irritation to the front of her eyes. “A foolish folly, tell me Edward what was it you entertained yourself with?” When I said nothing for a moment she sighed. “I assume you had entertainment?” 

I looked to Will for his support. He shrugged and smiled. His look informed me that he would not question her, that the argument which previously had faced Warwick would not work here. For this woman was indeed my mother, whilst she may have little right to know the every movement of her king, of her son she would know the actions. “I-“

“He has taken a mistress.” Will spoke for me. 

“Her name?” Ma mere seemed non-plussed by this knowledge. I blinked in surprise. 

“Elizabeth Lucy, nee Wyatt.” 

“A minor noble. You will not think to marry her Edward. Your affairs, your whores concern me little. Just know, she may not be more than your whore.”

“She is my mistress.” I corrected, my tone like that of a petulant child. 

“There is little difference in the eyes of God.” Mother shrugged. “John will tell you, for his brother George would well know, if she were to find herself with child it would be to her damn-“ Mother’s words stopped as she looked at me. My skin I knew was ashen, shock filled me as my blood ran cold. I felt the hand on my shoulder, felt the slight pull as Will’s hand slipped under my arm. Moments later he had pulled me to my bed chamber and away from my mother and cousin. 

“Edward you have not seen this woman in months and now you find her in London, she is with child?” I nodded. “Jesu, but Ned these things do happen. Did she not know it might happen? Did you?”

“Of course but! The child will be a bastard and-“

“And you cannot make that right. You cannot. Lady Cecily is right, she cannot be your wife.”

We fell silent just in time to hear John’s words outside our door. “He is an adult Cecily, with a man’s urges. I swear to you now, I shall not let the boy go astray. He will not be alone in this. If she is with child as you do suspect she is, then I will offer my guidance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can assume that John Neville was fond of Edward, he ongoing commitment and loyalty to him extended beyond the supposed scheming of his brother Warwick. He seemed to back Edward up until just before Edward's exile in 1470 when he lost the Earldom of Northumberland to his Percy rivals.


	23. 'Elizabeth'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Some days it don't come easy  
> Some days it don't come hard  
> Some days it don't come at all, and these are the days that never end  
> Some nights you're breathing fire  
> Some nights you're carved in ice  
> Some nights you're like nothing I've ever seen before or will again
> 
> Maybe I'm crazy, but it's crazy and it's true  
> I know you can save me, no-one else can save me now but you
> 
> As long as the planets are turning  
> As long as the stars are burning  
> As long dreams are coming true  
> You'd better believe it, that I would do
> 
> Anything for love  
> And I'l be there until the final act  
> I would do anything for love, and I'll take a vow and seal a pact  
> But I'll never forgive myself if we don't go all the way, tonight  
> I would do anything for love  
> Oh, I would do anything for love  
> Oh, I would do anything for love, but I won't do that  
> No, I won't do that
> 
> I would do anything for love  
> Anything you've been dreaming of, but I just won't do that  
> I would do anything for love  
> Anything you've been dreaming of, but I just won't do that  
> I would do anything for love  
> Anything you've been dreaming of, but I just won't do that  
> I would do anything for love  
> Anything you've been dreaming of, but I just won't do that
> 
> Some days I pray for silence  
> Some days I pray for soul  
> Some days I just pray to the god of sex and drums and rock 'n' roll  
> Some nights I lose the feeling  
> Some nights I lose control  
> Some nights I just lose it all when I watch you dance and the thunder rolls
> 
> Maybe I'm lonely, that's all I'm qualified to be  
> That's just one and only, the one and only promise I can keep"

April 2nd 1483

He whimpered in his sleep. Elizabeth gripped his hand, feeling his skin damp with sweat. He shivered as he rolled. Damn him she thought. Why did he need to do this now? She offered the scribe a scolding look. One extended to Will, the friend her husband thought so loyal. Loyal enough to lead him to his death in this pathetic pursuit. 

"Hush my darling." She broke the eerie silence, stroking sweat dampened hair from his forehead as he whimpered again, this time mumbling words. She heard movement. Saw Will rise and approach, moving pillows. "I'll do it." She snapped, snatching the pillows away as her husbands eyes opened. She saw the pain, the confusion behind their dimming blue. He saw nothing anymore she knew, nothing except his own delusions. So many times she had heard him cry, seen him lash out for smoke billowing from a fire. She had not worried herself unduly until demons had risen from empty fireplace and he had become obsessed, sickened himself with the idea that he may be dragged into the depths of hell. Her worry worsened when in private he would respond to voices unheard by her. That she knew was why he pursued this. So that all could understand. 

His blindness did little to remove the disappointment from his eyes. 

"Stop." He breathed, his hand gripping at the coverlets the only indication of his true pain. The only expression of emotion. The noise of the chair scraping on the wooden boards caused his head to turn. "Master..." He coughed, trying to sit up even as he fought Elizabeth's hand as she tried to push him back to the bed. "No. Paul." The young man stopped his movements, he winced as Elizabeth signalled that he should leave, paused only as Hastings stepped before the door blocking his path. "Stay." 

"You are not well husband. Should not-" 

"I. Will." His tone was strict. His eyes hard. "Do not Liz, bet. No."

"Husband you cannot. You must save your strength."

His laugh was the last sound she had expected. The sound she noticed was surprisingly healthy. When the sound stopped his eyes were glazed with ice. His breathing once again a shallow wheeze. "For what? The devil to strip from me as I become his play thing." 

"Oh Edward." She sighed, kissing his cheek, gripping his hand as he tried to move away. "For your son."

"I..." He gulped. "I have to do this. For him. Our children." He wheezed, Will stepped forward, pouring wine into a cup and pressed it to his lips. Edward swallowed but spluttered, wine spilling over his lips as he coughed. Elizabeth looked away, unable to watch. "They know so little of this Lisbet. They... They must understand."His voice was a whisper between coughs. She could not bare it as she left the room.

***

I grow weary and so we must continue, news had come that Nell's child had been a boy, one I would never see. Eliza bore me two children, the first a girl named Grace, the second a boy; Arthur. In the spring of 1464 as I rode through the forests of Northhamptonhire. Hastings as was always the case was at my side, as the man who now owned half of Northhamptonshire and much of Leicestershire, he was a man of authority in this region, a man of power. My children, now toddling, resided with their mother in London. As I rode through the trees, the wind running through my hair, they rested at the back of my mind, little more than a strain on my coffers. My attention had been fixed solely on my progress on the hunt. That was until I grew tired of our fruitless pursuits. 

I have always found that unless one tells the story oneself, the tale is dwindled down. The facts become watered and soon it resembles nothing more than romanticised nonsense. The story would be told in time that Lisbet and I met beneath an oak tree near Grafton, that it was love at first sight and that in a rare moment of vulnerability, she pleaded with me to release her lands. The only part of the story that rings truth is that then, as now, we were brought together by her incessant need for profit, and her pursuit of power. The word had reached Grafton several days before Will and I clattered up the old stone path to the manor which sat secluded. Jacquetta greeted us with a reluctanct, almost curt politeness. She looked as I would never see her again, her dark hair loose from the headdress I would become so accustomed to see her wear. The blonde, silken locks shone bright with hints of grey, her dress the colour of a summer sky brought out the green in her eyes. She looked quite positively radiant. I believed her the most beautiful woman I would ever see, in that moment outside the walls of Grafton. A thought I must admit which was soon snatched away. Sinking into a deep curtsy, her eyes averted as I jumped from the saddle, taking up Taurus' reins. "My lady Jacquetta." 

"My lord." Her French accent was clear, comforting, if I closed my eyes I could feel the warmth despite the cold, could picture the confines of my nursery; could feel the arms of my nurse, sweet Anne, wrapped tightly around me, comforting. Jacquetta's tone however was not submissive. It said all that her words could not. I was no more welcome here than the plague. I cannot say I did resent her attitude, perhaps it was the reminder which she offered me of my childhood, or perhaps I had a glimpse of the future. Logic prevailed however, I knew that the last her family had seen of me was in Calais, when at Warwick's orders I had been responsible for holding her husband and sons prisoner. Another story that changed by tellings. Whether Jacquetta knew the truth of Calais, or whether they had fed her the old lie that we had spewed insults to the Woodvilles whilst they were in our care, I do not know. The grudge she held against me though was one no more petty than that I held for their French bitch of a Lancastrian Queen. The wounds Anthony had received at Towton were not the only thing still to heal. There was a rift through England, one which needed to be stitched. As such, I had prepared for greetings as cold as this. After the mistake I had made over Somerset, when I forgave him when I should not, and the backlash Warwick had offered me in return; his incessant gloating that had told me not only that I had made a mistake, that I had been delirious, but that it had been his flesh, and his blood in John Neville who had cleaned up the mess the Duke had left. As though it were he himself who had been responsible for Somerset's capture at Hexham, and ultimately his demise. 

"I hope you will find comfort here at Grafton your grace." She did not warm to us as she turned, showing us through to the Courtyard where for the first time since my childhood in Rouen, and brief encounters at court, I saw Elizabeth. She stood like a blonde angel by the great stone bath which sat sheltered by the grand walls. Her sons splashed in the water, she in that moment however was not watching their boisterous play. Her grey eyes fixed on me, while Will's fixed on the children, a small smile etched on his face. The skin of her cheeks slowly turning pink as she blushed, her attention lapsed on taking in every inch of my body. Her blush deepened as she snatched her attention away all too quickly. She muttered several words to her boys before, wiping her hands on her skirts, she approached me. Hands clasped, fingers wound tightly. "My daughter Elizabeth your Grace." Jacquetta was quick to announce her. 

"She's a Lancastrian widow." Will muttered as though it was a reminder, his tone none too pleased. He must have seen my infatuation with her, he must have known she pleased me. His tone lightened, I heard both humour and exacerbation in his next words. "Sweet Jesu I should not have told you. It probably serves to feed your lust." He passed me, following Jacquetta as Elizabeth reached me. I heard his muttered queries as he walked. "How are the boys? Is Thomas well? Has there been any movement." Elizabeth looked to them for a moment, her eyes following them. Her voice was gentle as her attention moved back to me, like I would never hear it again. 

"Your grace does us great honour in dining with us."

"The honour is mine, my lady." I smiled, pressing her knuckles to my lips and planting them a delicate kiss. "We were in the area, passing and my Lord Hastings does think I need proper shelter." 

"That is not all he wants." She muttered, her smile returned, however, as though I had not heard her words. "My Lord Hastings seems sensible." She smiled, offering a fondness which would also seldom be seen again. 

She laughed as I shrugged. "It is unseemly for a lady to be left alone with a man is it not?" I smirked as she looked around flustedly, seeing only her sons left in the now deserted courtyard. 

"Tis best I'd say, however unseemly." She looked to the ground. Concern filled me as her eyes screamed with fear. 

"Lady Elizabeth. You need not look so green sick. I will not accost you. I will not demand. Nor am I like to have that pretty head removed from your body. I could not see such delicate beauty destroyed." She blushed, though something akin to fear still sat in her eyes. "Lady, please." My tone was more pleading, I fear it was somewhat desperate as her eyes changed, they suddenly softened, allowed me to take her hand in mine. "Whatever it is you fear, I do not take joy in harming vulnerable women. I am not Lancaster, I will not see your life torn about, women raped and children beaten in front of you. I do not want revenge for Ludlow."

"You have already got it." Anthony's voice interrupted us from across the courtyard. He leaned against a pillar, for how long he had stood there I could not be sure. Elizabeth snatched her hand away quickly, waving him a salute, he retreated back inside, doffing his cap and dropping a mock bow to me. All the while the smile on his face suggested that we were not the enemies I had believed we were. "For that I must say I am reassured. For what I must ask-" there was a break in her voice. "You are a hard man to talk so openly to and I feel vulnerable in saying this-"

"Madam you insult me." I snapped, making her jump, her ample breasts shaking in her bodice. "Whatever it is they have told you about me is nothing more than myth. I am not the monster the whore of Anjou paints me as."

"It is Warwick that they paint so black my lord." She looked back to the spot Anthony had vacated, her look spoke a million words. It was my cousin whom Anthony resented. 

"Warwick?" She nodded nervously, a smile finally breaking on her lips as I laughed. "Pah! I am not his puppet Lady. Say what it is you have to say." 

"Very well." She sighed. "I fear that my sons, they have no man who can offer them tuition, they are of such an impressionable age-" 

"There is Anthony. If I recall he has skill with a sword-"

"He cannot knight them. Without a grand household, well they will not have the tuition they deserve."

"You would have me rectify that?" She nodded. "I have naught to offer, lest there is something you would request to take?" She blushed at my smile. "There is not, unless, that is, we could meet again and I could have an hour of your time?" "I thought it your belief that it is unseemly for a woman and a man to be alone together." "We have been alone here." "In my parents house. That is hardly alone." "Then would it please you to meet here once more? In truth lady, I believe I could like your company. As ever I have." Her eyes were downcast, a smile broke on her lips. She shook her head, sighing. "To meet here? That is to have my brothers talk and it would be to my father's shame, for he will not have a Yorkist in his house." She held up a hand ordering my silence as I pursed my lips to speak. "You may be King Your Grace, but that is not to say he cannot refuse you. Not when my father sees you as a spoilt brat, a puppet in Warwick's command. Without Warwick or my Lord Hastings? I'd wager you hold less influence than a cat." She said it in good humour, and I could not help but laugh. "In the woods, then?" She paused. "Come, I would hardly take you so publicly, under a tree." She nodded. Pausing as we began to walk through the courtyard and toward the manor. "What of my son's educations?" "If it can be done I'll see it so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided not to follow the somewhat romanticised account and have Elizabeth and Edward meet under an oak tree. Though the story is rumoured that they did, there seems to be little if any true evidence for this. 
> 
> More realistic is that although not close, Elizabeth and Edward knew each other from infancy - both were at Rouen together with their parents in their youngest years. 
> 
> It is most likely that Elizabeth and Edward were reacquainted during a particular hunting trip of his to Grafton where the royal party may have visited the Woodville household and thus, they met. 
> 
> This would fit with Edward's desire to heal the rifts between the House of York and his Lancastrian enemies, which the Woodville's were (though Richard, Lord Rivers, and his son Anthony would be well acquainted with Edward and Warwick from their time in Calais, albeit under none too friendly terms). 
> 
> This is certainly not an uncommon occurrence, and to refuse a royal visitor was not a popular move so the Woodville's would likely have understood that as relatively minor nobles, refusal would be viewed unfavourably and that they may gain from the relatively minor sufferance they would need to endure in Edwards visit.
> 
> Edward and Elizabeth's meeting under and oak tree, in which she begged for her lands back, is mythical if only in as much as that this would have assumed that Sir John Grey had, upon his death, lost his lands in an Act of Attainder. This reportedly did not happen and the dispute in Elizabeth's lands and estates were with her mother-in-law. Some reason why she may have wished to meet with the king would have been to meet also with William Lord Hastings, Lord Chamberlain of England and a man with whom she had an agreement to marry her oldest son (Thomas Grey) to his eldest daughter. It is likely just a convenient side note that Edward was king and close to Hastings. The exact conditions around their first official meeting is shrouded in mystery. I have thus made this as a likely suggestion.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am an anti everything man  
> A scab on the lips of the Lord  
> My caustic dismissal  
> Is all I need to get you  
> To fall on your sword
> 
> It's easy to live fast  
> It's harder to live  
> I woke up today with a gun  
> Ignoring your history  
> Is killing your past  
> You might run forever  
> If death never lasts
> 
> So do me a favor  
> Your behavior  
> Is just a reason why  
> There is no savior  
> When you're wasted  
> Let's face it  
> There's a side of you that  
> Knows you're a failure  
> Lives for the danger  
> Feels like an enemy but looks like a stranger"

Fotheringhay Castle

 

My irritation at my cousin the Earl of Warwick began before my marriage. It was no secret that he so often was able to afford a more elaborate affair. His coffers were far deeper than my own and I in those early years of power was riddled with the debts of my predecessors. With England's debts running as deep as the wound inflicted by a blade, the debts my father had acquired in during his loyal service to King Henry in France served as a permanent reminder of why and how I had got here. Yet I digress. Warwick's extravagance had begun to irk. When in January 1463 I had, with strict budgets, hosted the memorial for the souls of my brother and father in the chapel at Fotheringhay, he had overshadowed such an event in his exuberant reburial of my uncle of Salisbury and cousin, Thomas. Of course I did not begrudge their reburial, and my rage had been secret, hidden from all but Will. Yet his blatant reluctance to hide an excessive wealth could easily cause a deep set irritation. 

 

The night following my meeting with Elizabeth  I sat in the solar, feet warming by the fire, the sound of Warwick's voice at the back of mind as he paced back and forth, rambling all the while. "Are you listening to me?" Warwick's tone was filled with irritation, I jumped in my seat as Will kicked me, his smirk failing to hide his amusement. 

"Of course." I waved a hand, resting it against my temple as it began to pound. My bare feet flexed as I heated them on the stones beside the flames, my boots discarded beside my chair. I chuckled as Warwick's gaze descended to my feet, disgust registering on his face. "Is a man not permitted to relax after a hard days work cousin?" 

 

"For certes." He did not sound certain. "I did not ask, for we did not have a moment alone." I looked up, snapping my fingers at the hunting bitch sniffing at my feet. Ever disobedient, her wet nose buried itself in my palm as her tongue lapped at the salt on my fingers. My free hand scratched her ears, her eyes were wide and her tail wagged as her head turned into my caress. "To where did you both disappear after the hunt yesterday?"

 

"I have an investment on the far side of Rockingham Forest." Will spoke in a non-committal tone. 

"The Grey boy?" I raised an eyebrow as Will nodded. My cousin sighed, lowering himself onto a bench. "You do not yet have a daughter to give him." Will shrugged. "I do take it you have not given her the five hundred marks you have promised?" 

"Promised if they wed, for the Ferrers lands." 

 

"A sound investment?" Warwick leaned forward, clasping Will's hand after he replied. 

"I do think so." Will smirked. 

"I see why he is Chamberlain of the Exchequer Ned." My cousin's smile vanished as he saw my empty amusement. He did not give me chance to speak. "On the note of marriage, we have been approached with a request for your hand in marriage." 

"Louis did withdraw his offer?" I mumbled.

"Do you listen to nothing? It was not five minutes past I told you that the negotiations are taking a slower progress than pleases us and so alternative arrangements may have to be made."

"Which bodes better for the trading deals with Burgund-"

"We will not negotiate with Burgundy." Warwick did not raise his voice, though I could hear his irritation. His tone was one of authority, one of superiority, one which said that he and no one else was in charge. 

"Why should we favour France over Burgundy?" I leaned forward, my feet now flat on the cold stones. 

"Because France is our ally." He said it so simply, I saw his changed expression as I laughed. 

"They are your ally Warwick. I would say you are in Louis' purse and not my own."

"That." Warwick sighed. "Is ridiculous. Edward you, and the House of York, have always had my loyalty. You always will. Louis is just an important part in an essential negotiation. Phillip can offer nothing 'cept his trade deals. It is with Louis where the true power lies. Edward if you want to be seen as a King and not a puppet, not a petulant child and a spoilt boy then you must accept a French marriage. You are not a merchant-"

"It is English merchants to whom we turn to for our funds. It is they that offer us grants, they who pay their taxes and they who controlled the gates of London when we most needed them to. Do you forget that?" Warwick shook his head, about to speak when I continued. "Burgundy offers them more. What does France offer? Wine. Whilst a cask of malmsey may please me as much as the next man, I will do what is right _for my country_."

 

"A French marriage is right for the country, a strong marriage Ned. You cannot have both, you know well that Louis will not negotiate with Burgundy, and will not offer Bona of Savoy to you if he knows you are in the purse of Burgundy. Why not take to the Duke's bed? Or is that not a fruitful prospect?" I shook my head, my eyes rolling as i pushed the dog away with little effort. Her rejection short lived as she found her way onto Will's lap, her tongue caressing his face too eagerly I saw. "Spain may have offered us a solution, one which will not have us scorn our French allies and resolve the issue of your marriage. Her name is Isabella. She is a eligible woman, quite pleasing to the eye I hear."

"Why do you believe a Spanish marriage will not scorn _your_ French allies." 

 

"Because they are not at war with France."

"Burgundy are not _at war_ with France." I corrected him.

"Edward, I only want a marriage that is convenient for you and for England." He turned back to Will, and in truth I was thankful for losing his attentions. "Did you have success with the Woodvilles?"

"Relative. Of course, we wished to heal the wounds of the past. Edward wishes to win over our Lancastrian rivals, starting with the Woodvilles." 

The look Warwick gave me was one of suspicion. He did not get to say another word as I rose to my feet, grabbing my boots, I marched up the cold stairs and to my bed. 


	25. Chapter 25

That was not my only meeting with Elizabeth. Though I must confess, there was little to say about love at first sight, the truth was that I could not keep my mind from straying to thoughts of her. Our meetings were few, as I returned to London, and to business, I was little able to focus. I thought only of Lisbet on the long nights in which I could not sleep. Will of course knew of my fascination, though I suppose that to him it was little more than that. The fascination of a foolish little boy, a passing interest and that I would indeed fall to Warwick's will. That I would submit to my cousin, as so many men did. 

That I suppose was why as we rode through Northampton, his thoughts upon the northern uprisings and the stir Lancaster was causing, we were able to laugh of my interest. Little did he know as he jested that I would indeed marry Lisbet in a secret bid to keep her. 

"If she will not bed you, then you have yourself a problem." He joked, his eyes alight with amusement. "The righteous ones are difficult, course it's naught you are not used to. Whatever did you do with Nell Butler? A secret marriage in a quiet church so you can wed, bed and ditch her." He sniggered as he kicked his horse. He had not looked back to see if indeed I was beside him. 

Will knew nothing of the note I sent ahead to Grafton, nor did he see aught amiss as we set up camp in Rockingham Forest. I doubt he noticed much as in the small hours of the morning, I slipped silently from the tent we shared. Quite deliberately I might say, he was snoring merrily without care from too much wine and a little sleeping draught. So it was done, with my chamberlain still drunk and my men asleep, the sun had not risen on the morning of May 1st, 1464, that Elizabeth and I, man and wife, left the church and entered the marriage bed. 

Could I have predicted that I would keep her? I suppose there had always been a strange allure, a certainty deep within me that she would not let me live if I did discard her. That knowledge had been confirmed when I had told her that our marriage must remain a secret. Her expression I recall was murderous, that of a woman scorned. Yet she held her silence, she did not muse a word. 

By afternoon that day, Will was still dim in mind, his senses numbed as we marched north without delay.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That's enough of all your taunting  
> Seems I can't remove you from my mind  
> Don't you know that sometimes  
> I wish they'd kill me for wanting you  
> I will sit alone in silence  
> Can't allow the meaning I can find  
> Will you be defeated when they  
> Kill me for wanting you
> 
> I can't believe that my sanity  
> Lies in abandoning you  
> I can't recall the helpless times  
> I've been betrayed by you
> 
> Sickened from wanting you  
> Frightened of finding the truth  
> Don't say anymore  
> Now my mind isn't changing  
> This reckoning's long overdue
> 
> All past the walls around me  
> In the prison of my own design  
> Will I win my freedom if they  
> Kill me for wanting you  
> Maybe the arms of Hell will hound me  
> Just as long as I remain confined  
> I will be completed when they  
> Kill me for wanting you"

**14** th September 1464.  
Reading.  
  
Since my marriage to Elizabeth much had changed. My army had gathered in Leicester, and on the 11th of May, I had called an end to my private honeymoon (or to dearest Will, affair) with Lisbet, and we had duly marched north whilst she return to Grafton. Returned I might add with the promise of a temporary silence on our arrangement. That I had known would please her little. Yet she had settled, and returned with little a complaint.  
  
Our northern progress saw that on the 23rd of May, I arrived at York. After much pomp and cheer, I had bestowed upon John Neville the Earldom of Northumberland, a worthy title which since his youth his eyes had been fixed on. Such was a fitting reward for his efforts in the north. For it had been he and not Warwick who had truly vectored at Hedgley Moor and Hexham, and since such victories, the rebellions had all but died out. It was thanks to John that the Lancastrian’s seemed to be silenced and peace was prevailing. A further victory had come on the first day of June, when peace had been bartered with Scotland and Warwick could return to London.  
  
On that matter we did not waste time. I did learn an important lesson. When a Kin g travels south with haste, news does come with it. It was not long therefore before letters arrived with the symbol of Grafton. We were not two months wed, and Lisbet already had her ropes around my neck – and my balls. I look back with fondness now, mixed with irritation. Then however I saw it merely as a minor concern to be overlooked. Of course, I think Will did know something was amiss. For too often I had let him act as secretary. Too often he had not only read but responded to my letters. Lisbet’s letters however I had always kept private. Private except when I recall, Will must have known. He is not a simple man, and ever has he known me better than I know myself. Yet to his merit, he did not say a word. He did not speculate, at least not so much as I heard a word.

The situation in London however required much attention. Warwick was not a man to rest until he gained what he wanted – what he felt was necessary. So, while he continued to negotiate for a foreign marriage, I looked to matters more practical. I had taken the crown of England three years before, and yet the exchequer had seen so few reforms since it had been broken under Lancastrian rule. My meetings were indeed endless. From consultations with merchants, to foreign ambassadors, to lawyers and advisors, Will was always at my side. As Master of Mint he had sat with an eager desire for knowledge. It was however me, that at our conference at Stamford that August, it was to the perplexion of those present that I took a central role. All the same, the proposal to change the currency, to mint new coins was one which though unpopular, I knew must go ahead.  
  
It was with tentative approval that we led to the events of that September. Of course you will know, that nothing in court is ever simple. Nothing of a King’s life is as it quite appears. One cannot simply choose to remint coins at the expense of England and the merchants hard gotten tax. That was why we called the second meeting at Reading in September. That too was Warwick’s opportunity to back me into a political and personal corner. Lisbet’s letters had grown more desperate, and more frequent. She had gone from a reluctant but silent agreement to holding her tongue on the matter of our marriage, to demanding it be made public.  
  
By the first day of September, I had Lisbet on one hand demanding our union be declared, whilst Warwick sat upon my other with the promise of a French alliance. A French alliance I had learned he had successfully negotiated. Moreover, it was only for the fortune of two men’s intervention that Warwick did not take it upon himself to announce. For Dick had learned of the conference I was to give at Reading, an awfully public affair which had served to him a dual function. Whilst it reeked of financial reform, Dick was ever ambitious. In his mind, why should one reform suffice when many could be made? Why should York sit in the shadow of Lancaster, when it – or rather he, had achieved so much more.  
  
To Warwick, this marriage was more than a union. This was his vision of a new England, a great England. An England which had, by peace and marriage, regained its hold on France, and removed the influence of a French Queen.

Yet as he had told me that it was he who should make that announcement, his brother John’s observations were not failing him. That was why he had interrupted his brother’s proposal. “Do you not think that Ned may wish to inform the court himself, brother?” That was all it had taken, with a nudge from Will and Warwick and myself had agreed: I would announce the matter of my marriage.  
  
So as we had gathered at Reading, I had prepared. Before all the eligible lords of the realm, all those who had a say, I had discussed the matter of the new mint. Earning a hard gained approval from those who did not want to see such changes. I will not lie and say the nerves of my predicament did not weigh heavily upon me, and I will not pretend that my delays did not almost spur Warwick to make a decision I might otherwise regretted. Yet it was after we had dined that I made my announcement. Knowing they would witness such a milestone, those present gathered in a strict, anxious silence as I rose to my feet. Every set of eyes were upon me, I did not fall beneath the attention of a single man.  
  
“I want to personally thank you all for your attendance.” I tried to control my voice, to keep it level and even. To keep from it the emotion, the anxiety I felt. My hands rested firmly upon the table in my refusal to let them shake. An act which I saw did not deceive Hastings. His eyes were wide as he looked at me, his bottom lip caught in his teeth. I believe in that moment, before I made my announcement, that all had come together to make a sort of sense to him. I believe he knew what my words would be before I even uttered them. That was why his face was so stern, I think he tried to wish it away, to pray to God that he was wrong – that on this he could be wrong. “Now is to a topic of great importance.” I smiled. “The utmost importance. It to the topic of my marriage.” I saw Warwick’s smile as he stood at the back of the hall. “My Lord Warwick has in his good will made preparations. I would thank him for this.” I raised my cup, and each man did the same. Each man I saw except Will, who sat paralysed as he looked at me. I continued hastily if only to spare him. “Yet I doubt a single man could have forseen this situation.” Warwick moved forward, his body I knew was suddenly tense. “I cannot announce a French marriage-“  
  
“Edward-“ Warwick said loud enough that he winced as I continued.  
  
“Let me finish my lord. I cannot announce a French marriage not because there could not be one, but because there will not.” I held my cousin’s eye.  
  
“Why?” He mouthed, refusing to voice his words.  
  
“Why? You might ask. Because I am not eligible to marry, because I am already married.” I heard Will’s cup rest upon the table. I knew this was his act to spare himself, to spare me the embarrassment of it hitting the ground, or spilling over the table, for his hands shook like a man ‘s with the palsy. “It was with great happiness and by my own will and decision, under the eyes of God, that on May 1st of this very year I did wed the Lady Elizabeth Grey.”  
  
I saw as my cousin’s face at first flushed red, before perhaps he realised the truth of my words and his skin turned dangerously ashen.

***  


Warwick kept his distance that afternoon. It was not until the darkness of night he stormed unannounced, though expected, into my presence. “What in the name of God was that?” He growled. He did not overstep the mark, he did not push me against the wall; nor did he threaten me as I could see he wished to. Instead he kept a respectful distance. His eyes darting around the room to fixate on anything, anyone but me. I am sure he was disappointed to see that this was a rare occasion in which were to be alone. Will had, that afternoon, dismissed himself from my company. He had found the whole event too much to stomach I knew, and soon he had been away. With Catherine I did not doubt, for in those early days she was so much more by his side.  
  
“That, Dick, was the truth.” I muttered, I did not stand, I did not look in his direction. Instead I just sat, looking at the rug beneath my feet. My boot toying with the fraying threads.  
  
“That was humiliating. For you and for me.” His hands were a flurry of movement. He stopped, looking at me for an intense moment before he sighed. “You truly the woman?” I nodded. “Edward, I would understand now if you tell me that this was just… a childish objection? But it has to be now so we can fix this.” He took a sharp inhale of breath. “So you do not like the Savoy girl, that is understandable and perhaps, just perhaps we can a find a suitable match you do like. She is a pretty girl, and polite, and powerful and wealthy-“  
  
“I do not want power, nor wealth. Jesus but Richard I have those!” My foot stamped down on the floor, my eyes now held his. “It is not a childish objection, I truly wed her, and I bed her and God is my witness.” I stood up finally, calming my nerves. I did not throw the table before me, I did not smash a thing. My hand was gentle as it rested upon my cousins arm. I did not do more than sigh, than step away as he brushed my hand away too firmly. “Do I wish I could have told you first? Yes. Do I wish I had not done it? Nay.”  
  
“You have ruined England for a shag.” He snorted.  
  
“You exaggerate.” I sighed, gripping hold of my patience as I felt it begin to slip.  
  
“No, I do not Edward. I do not.” His hand waved again. “If you had not told them.” He signalled to the world outside the door, to the courtiers. “Then I could have fixed this. She could have been dismissed, got rid of. I could have seen, could have overlooked that you falsely wed the woman for lust-“  
  
“For _love_.” I corrected. “I married her for love.”

He scoffed. “Do you know that they already say?”  
  
“Do I care?” I turned away, walking to the window to look over the grounds. Men were patrolling in their groups. In the distance I could hear their voices, their laughter. In truth I think it did bother me, in my youth however I pretended that ignorance was bliss. In my immaturity, I truly believed myself untouchably. Physically, and emotionally. Yet part of me knew that Will could amongst those laughing, that not just Hastings or Herbert, or Stanley or Norfolk. Not even just my Neville cousins, but beyond that, that my marriage could be the laughing stock of England? I did not want to acknowledge the truth of it then as I do now.

“No.” Warwick whispered, shaking his head. I recognise the look now as one of defeat, one of despair. “Doubtless you do not. Nor do you see that you should, for I care, and Johnny, and your brother’s and mother care. Your father would care, and Edmund, he would be-“  
  
“Do not talk of Edmund! Do not use him against me! You do not know what he would think, you did not know him.” My anger trailed off, grief filled me as soon as it fled. Grief I tried to tuck away, again. Grief I barely had time to mourn. Even now, his mere name is like a knife thrust deep within my gut. “Not how I did.”  
  
“Edward.” He sighed. “They do already accuse her of so many things. You did not regard the woman until now. It is not like she was ever hidden away. Yet you do not know, will not acknowledge that you have picked for the forbidden fruit, and worse you have tasted it.” I scoffed in response. “You have had us thrown from the Garden of Eden-“  
  
“France is not Eden and I do not think you see, we were to be in Louis’ purse.”

“So perhaps we could have negotiated with Spain.” He sighed. “Yet you must think that what is the point of being King if you cannot have the woman of your choosing.”  
  
We did not see as John joined us. How long he had been stood there I cannot say, yet I was thankful for his words, for his intervention as his hand rested upon his brother’s shoulder. “Dick, our cousin is young. I do not mean to dismiss what he has done, but think. His sin is youth. He is old enough to have desires, yet young enough to realise he cannot always have them. So his marriage is out, but it is done. No shouting, nor threats can undo that. If he has laid with her, then they are married in the eyes of the church and of God and we _must_ accept that.”  
  
Johnny did not announce his undertone, he did not say the unspoken. They did not have to like the marriage. Yet Johnny had ever been the diplomat. He had ever had the voice of reason, and he had always known how to use it. If there was a man that should have wielded the Neville power, it should have been John Neville, not his brother. Perhaps it would not have been their undoing, or perhaps the same mistakes would still have been made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite The White Queen's account of what happened between Edward and Warwick when Edward announced the marriage, there was no indication that Warwick (despite being made to look like an utter fool) actually did anything in way of anger and instead took the whole issue in relatively good stead - publicly at least. 
> 
> Of course it could not be said that Warwick approved of or even accepted the marriage, for he did not. Yet to shout at the King, without exceptionally good reason to would have been unwise. To do so after Edward had married Elizabeth? That would have futile at best and would likely not have worried Edward in the least. For Edward did not appear to think his marriage was a problem at all. In fact, from the evidence available, it does not seem that Edward was remotely concerned about reporting the marriage (with some cheer) to anyone but Warwick himself. Suggestions are that his admitting of his marriage was a more private thing - at least to Warwick. However for this story, it seemed to work better for the character I wish to portray in Edward that he did not more publicly, if only because I think he may have genuinely feared the potential backlash which would come from Warwick's reaction. 
> 
> My account of Edward and Warwick's relationship is that they were less friends and more allies. That whilst yes, family and mutual interest may have brought them together, and whilst Warwick could wield more power with Edward than without him, they were not as such friends. Regardless, Edward must have been rather much a handful in his youth. There is no contrary account to him being affable and jaunty, yes, but arrogant nonetheless. To what extent this mellowed with experience? it is hard to say.What I can almost certainly say however, is that at this point, Edward would likely have felt rather untouchable. The Lancastrians were seemingly not a real threat anymore (though Margaret and Henry were still at large with their son), he was far enough away from a newly crowned monarch to let himself forget how he got there, and too far from the events of the late 1460's to think he would face any real, internal opposition. It's hard to truly think he thought himself even remotely vulnerable - and therefore could do what he liked. 
> 
> So Warwick it seems took a more subtle approach, hence my justification for making him the concerned and disappointed cousin rather than the Earl who wanted power. I do not dispute that Warwick did want power, that he craved it. He did however seem to also want stability for England, which his French marriage would have to some extent provided, and whilst he did not wish to made a laughing stock, so obviously opposing Edward, as to go into a rage, would have been a risky decision and there is no sign that Warwick was anything but intelligent. 
> 
> Within this then I am trying to display that whilst Edward is aware that Warwick is almost a superpower in his life, that Edward has also realised that he could be accused of being a puppet. A status Edward would have wanted to be away from. 
> 
> This then I have structured as Edward's way of 'cutting the strings' and opposing Warwick in a way in which he could feel less scared - for Warwick could hardly 'kick off' at such a public event, could he?


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Say my name, and his in the same breath,  
> I dare you to say they taste the same,  
> Let the leaves fall off in the summer  
> And let December glow in flames
> 
> Erase myself and let go,  
> Start it over again in Mexico  
> These friends, they don't love you  
> They just love the hotel suites, now
> 
> I don't care what you think,  
> As long as it's about me  
> The best of us can find happiness, in misery  
> I don't care what you think,  
> As long as it's about me  
> The best of us can find happiness, in misery"

I had not thought in truth that the day would come where I would need to face my mother. Of course I had not expected that she would not hear, or that news would not reach her at Baynards Castle, for London was a day’s easy ride away. I had not expected however that ma mere would, at her own invite, make her way from London to Reading without so much as an hours warning. On this occasion, Will had not deserted me. He was by my side as the news came that my Lady Mother had arrived, and that she was setting up in her presence chamber – that was before she would see me. Had I been less occupied with the situation, I perhaps would have been like to fall into a fit of rage.  
  
However, I did not.  
  
Will had looked up from his papers as the messenger had read his message, ready I was sure for my anger. Thus, he was visibly surprised when none came. “This will not be easy Ned.” Of course, he did not need to tell me. I sighed as I paced back and forth, completing laps of the huge chamber. “For as long as I have known your lady mother, the Duchess of York, I have known she is a fair. On this however, I think you might have yourself a battle as worthy as Towton of its name.”  
  
“Will.” I did not need to tell him to hold his tongue, he willingly obeyed, though his face did not hold sympathy for my predicament.  
  
“Perchance you fear she may be angry?” He soothed, trying to calm my nerves.  
  
I scoffed. “I do not fear a certainty.”  
  
“A bold, and might I add, arrogant statement.” He retorted. “Then her disappointment?” To that I nodded, and he shrugged. “I thought you _did not_ fear certainty?” I shot him a look, to which he laughed. “You were ever a bright lad Edward. You will know what to tell her I am sure. I do not envy you, her moods, well I rather think they will be most hard to control. Yet if a man can warm a woman’s heart, even your mothers, I do have faith it would be-“  
  
We were interrupted as the messenger returned. “Your Grace, forgive the intrusion but-“ He did not have to say another word. I turned and left the chamber, following the boy I recognised with my head held high. I said nothing as I reached ma mere’s chambers, entering, I dropped to my knee before her. A gesture I saw was lost upon her. She did not move, did not react. Instead she stared at me as she had stared at air. I waited a moment, beginning to raise until she held a hand that I should stop.  
  
“You will stay there, until I am ready to offer you blessing.” My mother had a talent for masking emotion from her voice, from her face, and indeed from her being. So often it had been a talent which had resulted in Edmund and myself questioning her ownership of emotions. For not only could ma mere have an ice cold voice, she could indeed have a face of stone. Today, nothing was readable within her. “I warn you Edward, it could take time. For I know that this blessing, it will not be for just my son. For I love my son and king, but I do not love and I do not appreciate this sham of a marriage. A sham so much evident, that he did not think he could tell me himself. He was woe to tell me at all.”

“Ma mere-“ She waved a hand for instant silence. I did not say another word, only shifted my weight for several minutes until she once again looked at me.  
  
“Rise up. I do not think I can bless you. It will not do for the King of England to kneel before me until I die.” The haughtiness, the pride had not ebbed from her voice. Over the years I had noticed, it had only become a more permanent fixture. For those who thought that with my father had died my mother’s will, they would be wrong. Stricken with grief, my mother had gone from proud Cis, to almost insufferable. Some days I questioned whether her pride, her self-importance exceeded even my own. I suppose it could have been argued, since ma mere had claimed ownership of the Queen’s apartments both Windsor and Westminster, that it did.

All the same, I found myself obeying her will as I rose in silence. This time however, she could not stop me as I approached her. She could not scold me as I sat upon a cushion beside her chair – whilst she sat like a monarch in her own right. “Mother, prithee.” She did not react, it was as though my words were silent. In my irritation, I looked to the women who surrounded her, snapping at them as I could not at her. No anger would work on her I knew. “Leave us!” Was my barked order, one they hesitated to obey. “Now!” A single nod from my mother saw them leave. “Mother, listen-“  
  
“I will not accept this match. I will not say I approve, I will tell you I disapprove. I will tell you more, I am disappointed.” She held my eye as she said it in thin lipped scorn. She saw my blink of surprise, saw I am sure the glittering of tears in my eye. Those were days in which my mother’s disappoint still weighed heavily upon my shoulders. “I am disappointed that you have so forsaken your name, your family.” She did not stop. Not even as I rose and stepped away, not even as I turned my back to her. “You, a York, have married a common Lancastrian whore-“  
  
“She is _not_ a whore.” I muttered.  
  
“England does call her a witch, and they call you a philanderer.” She snapped. “It was from a man of London that I heard I should not give your marriage credence Edward. Because you are ever keen to bed a woman and would do anything for it. I might have overlooked that. Save you announced your marriage to a Woodville, a Rivers.” Her words not were edged with pure disgust.  
  
“She is not a witch.” Was all I could muster. Mother shrugged and shook her head, as though it stood for nothing. I think, perhaps, it did stand for nothing.  
  
She waited a moment before she continued. “I did have wind of another rumour. For this week you have been quite involved in the scandals have you not?” It was my turn to shrug. “I have heard that you have before wedded another.” My hands gripped at my belt to hard, I refused to spin and look at her. “Of course I-“ She stopped as I laughed. “What is funny.”  
  
“That you all do act as though you can change it. Do you not see you are all powerless to change this?” I turned then, my hands clapped together. “I do suppose that Warwick, he supported your journey to Reading today?”  
  
“No. I came as your mother coming to scold my son. You were woefully lacking in discipline it does seem. Your father and I, we tried, but Croft’s it seemed promoted anarchy and disobedience in Ludlow-“  
  
“Anarchy? Disobedience?” I chuckled. “Ma mere, sweet ma mere, no. They taught me independence, and to stand my own feet. They taught me that it I who do, and should, control my own fate. I could not be more thankful to them. I could not be more thankful to you for housing me there.”  
  
“It was your father’s decision Edward. I saw you were a challenging boy, and I was not wrong. I would have had you in my brother’s household, if your father had heeded me.”  
  
“But he did not and I am thankful.” There was a silence between us for several moments. “I do not see why you do not see the benefits of this marriage.”  
  
“Because there are none.” She replied. “Because I know her and that-“  
  
“That she is a widow and has already children, By God’s blessed Lady, I am a bachelor and have some too.” Her eyes widened, though I knew this was no secret. She too knew of my issue, of their presence in London. Yet this I recall was the first time I had so openly spoken of them to her. I was not deterred, indeed a smile did play upon my lips as I continued. “And so each of us has proof that neither of us is like to be barren.”  
  
“Edward I-“ It was my turn to wave a hand. I did not say another word. Instead I turned upon one foot, and left her presence without uttering another word. Nor did I much care the intrusion as with my leaving, the women who had been listening outside the door did fall. Nor did I much care that my sister Margaret was among them. I offered her little attention as she stared at me from across the corridor.  
  
I should have seen it then, that in her eyes was a compassion. One that recognised that I would need help. Meg was an intelligent girl, and a stalwart woman. If only I had listened to her, if only I had been wise enough to hear her advice. I may have found that my life was easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this exchange is a creation of my own imagination. Of course there was a conversation of some sort, not only do we know this through evidence but can assume it through common sense. Furthermore, the evidence suggests that Cecily voiced strong disapproval of the marriage - which again there is no grounds to dispute. Edward it is recorded does not seem to have been repentant for what others saw as not only an ill thought out decision, but an utter catastrophe. Perhaps Edward himself did not see it this way (an almost certainty, in that Edward could be accused of acting first and thinking later, but also seemed to have at least believed he loved Elizabeth - or perhaps may have ACTUALLY loved her). Instead he seemed to almost relish the delight of others reactions and disapproval to his marriage, and this is to some extent revealed in the quote within this chapter:
> 
> "that she is a widow and has already children, by God's blessed Lady, I am a bachelor and have some too : and so each of us has proof that neither of us is like to be barren." (Clive, 1973: 108 - from Thomas More). 
> 
> However, there is no reason to think he would have not at least passed some respect to his mother and would have listened to her opinions - if only because he was expected to.


	28. Chapter 28

September 29th 1464.  
Reading Abbey

It still surprised me that any obvious objection to my marriage had not come from Warwick. For all he did cling to his power, neglected to relinquish his supposed influence and release the strings of his so called puppet, it was from my mother and from Will I did hear the most objections. Of course, having fallen to a drunken stupor, induced by myself, Will of all had cause to be angry. Yet in my naivity I had not expected his fury. 

I recall how I did find him one evening, in cups with my cousin John. The image is so vivid it could have been just yesterday. It is the last time he would forget himself enough to fall willingly drunk. Johnny, Lord rest his soul, was sober as he listened to Will's words. "A common whore, he married a common whore. A witch no less." I had smelled the alcohol, the strong stench of cheap ale, from around the corner. I had heard his stumbling as he paced. "What's worse you know?" He stopped a moment, I knew he would be looking around for prying eyes, forgetting only once that a man could hear before he could see. "He tricked me John. He. Tricked. Me." I heard John's mumbled words be interrupted. "In Leicester! God I thought I was blind drunk! That I had made an error in judgement! That it was my fault, and I had failed him. I was a fool." He sounded almost defeated. "For then I did believe that he had only taken the wench there to bed her! To my own home! But they were married..." He had trailed off then, as his eyes met me. "Behind my back." Were the last words he muttered.

If I had expected an apology, I did not get one. The look on his face was of disgust as he left me then that night. I did not have chance to say a word. Will has ever had a habit for being bold enough to speak his mind. Yet never rude enough, nor foolish enough to stop my retaliation. If I had been asked when he stormed off into the night, only to vomit in the grass somewhere in Reading, if I would forgive him, if we would again be friends so close as brothers? I would have said no, only to be proven wrong. I did not know that the next day, with the munks having received complaints from the local townsfolk, I would venture to the market cross to lift Will from his ale induced sleep. Nor that we would talk, perhaps too sternly, as we returned to the Abbey. Most likely however it was the love he already bore me. A love which stung his eyes like a deep pain. I had looked away as he wiped his tears. Momentarily unsure for which betrayal I should apologise, before deciding I should not. 

I suppose I had expected Will would not show his face at the ceremony planned for Elizabeth to be acknowledged as my queen. That was why I had been surprised as he had walked into the Abbeys main hall, taking a seat toward the back in obscurity. He spoke to no one, I saw he could not easily stomach to look at me, yet I was thankful to see he was not too quick with the wine. Indeed his hand had paused and his eyes had fixed as I had begun to walk in his direction. He did not refuse my attention, though it was clear he did not want it. 

I was not to reach him though. He looked away as the doors opened and the names were announced. "Your Grace, Queen Elizabeth, his Grace the Duke of Clarence an' my Lord, the Earl of Warwick." 

Elizabeth held her head high as she approached me, through the crowd of glowering courtiers. My gaze momentarily fell on Hastings, he was playing the card of blissful ignorance as he feigned interested conversation with my brother Richard. A child he had seldom shown more than a couertious respect toward. A child he had not shown signs of liking. 

I paid him no more attention as Lisbet neared me, saw Warwick's awkward smile as I pulled her into a public embrace, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Elizabeth. My love. Your journey was not too taxing I do hope?" She shook her head, her hand clinging onto mine as though I would slip away from her at any moment. "I trust my cousin Dick and brother George did inform you that you are most welcome here, at our court."

"They did." She smiled, though, as she glanced at Warwick, there was a spark of distrust in her eyes. A spark I assume had stemmed from Calais. 

"Your brother George was telling her grace, how pleased we were to be able to greet her. Were you not George?" He nodded. "That we look forward to her grace's presence at court. Will it not be nice to have a woman's influence at court?" Warwick murmured. "That is of course, alongside the duchess of York."   
"I have heard rumours." George spoke, even then able to enrage me in a moment. "That our mother is refusing to move from her chambers at Windsor I do hope this issue is speedily resolved." Breaking away from Elizabeth, I had tried to push him away. Though I saw I had not. With her obvious irritation, I had known that any hope of peace I could have hoped to gain from this marriage, peace which would have stemmed from Elizabeth's patience. Yet I should have known that Lisbet would never have been content whilst my mother would be allowed to remain in the Queen's apartments. 

***

If there is ever a time when a man's loyalties are questioned, and his emotions are raw on edge, it is when his mother and his wife cannot find it in their heart to get along. That was the situation in which I would find myself. Whatever hope of civility I had allowed myself to expect from them both was shattered at our returned to London. 

A trip which had been delayed for staying two weeks in Reading before we had made our way to Windsor. It was not until January of 1465 however, that we finally made our way to Westminster. It was here my mother and wife would meet. No sooner had I escorted Lisbet into my mother's presence, was I dismissed. I would not hear another word for several hours. Sat alone in my apartments, I had waited to hear news from either woman. News which finally came as my wife came into my presence. "You must tell her." Were her first words. "She disrespected me."

"She too disrespected me." I shrugged. "I would say nothing to her sweetheart. She is my mother, she will calm her anger, and when she does I will speak to her civilly-"

"You mean to say that you will let her remain in my apartments?" 

There would never be a right answer to that question I do not think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historically, we cannot know how this went. Only when and where Elizabeth was officially introduced to court. Reportedly, Warwick acted admirably the entire time, and George and Warwick introduced her to court. We also know that Cecily refused to move out of the queens rooms, and Edward had to have new chambers built for Elizabeth...


	29. Chapter 29

I had not expected that Elizabeth would forgive me my sins for allowing my mother to stay in the Queen's apartments, apartments which by right should have been my wife's. Even then I had known that she would not be one to drop the grudges she bore someone, would not be likely to forget the actions of a single person. That was why I had found it a pleasant surprise when within weeks she made her way into my presence, all signs of her anger dispelled. 

 

That was until her eyes set upon Will as he moved. He had entered my presence barely five minutes before, his intention only to discuss the progress of his beloved remint. He had I had noticed bristled the moment she had entered the chamber. As she stepped closer to me, I saw him rise from his seat, making his way toward the door without a word. She barely acknowledged him, even then she did not like him, though they were not so fixated in their hate. "Will." I muttered, regaining his attention. "You have not asked if you may leave, and I have not dismissed you. You may stay." Though I saw his discomfort, I knew he would remain. 

 

Elizabeth too looked dismayed of my decision, nonetheless a smile sat comfortably on her lips, so comfortable and natural did it look, that I could not help but kiss her as I pulled her into a warm embrace. "My sweetheart."

"Husband." Her face rested against the base of my neck, her lips attacking skin persistently. Her hands threaded themselves under clothes, searching for skin. My heart sped, that was until she broke away. She summoned one of her ladies forward, taking a velvet bag from her hand. "You may leave now." She nodded to the girl, turning her attention back to me, her smile now returning to her face. She beckoned me close, taking my hand before she handed me the package. "This is for you." Her eyes glittered. 

"Lisbet, you did not need to." I heard Will's scoff, did not look at him. Elizabeth was not so merciful, she offered a look akin to none. I heard him move, walking across the chamber until he reached the window, looking out of it so he did not have to see the woman I knew he so disliked. When her attention returned to me, it fixed on my hands. I did not hesitate, opening the bag, gripping the hilt of the dagger removing the dagger from its bag. The sapphire and emeralds shone dark under the candle light. I did not say a word, could not. 

"A fine weapon for a fine king, a brave knight." Her hands lopped back around my waist, her lips connected with my lips as my head dipped once again. "A warrior."

"You should not have." I whispered. 

 

"A minor expense."

"From the King's exchequer no doubt." Will whispered, almost silently. I cut off Lisbet's objections, my lips parting hers as my tongue danced in her mouth. Her hands tackled my clothes, finger touching skin in burning pleasure. Hastings eyes I were filled with distaste, though he did not look away. Not as I tackled the ties of Lisbet's bodice, or as I pushed her toward the bed, dropping the dagger to the floor before I was atop her, straddling her. 

 

**

It was  as she  lay, her head on my chest, listening to my heart as she so often then did that Elizabeth spoke. "Ned, I..." Her lips connected with my chest, hot breath sending pleasurable shivers through me. "My love." She reached up, her lips now kissing my neck, her body laid naked, pressed against mine. Her voice was a shallow whisper as she spoke again. "Now I am Queen, now all do know it, I wished to discuss a matter of importance to me." She waited for indication she could continue, took it from the sigh I gave her. "My father he, well he is a man of honour, and I worry that his previous loyalties may become between you and he." 

"Sweetheart, I have forgiven him. Such worries are of small concern." 

"I worry that he is not accepted in your court. He does not have the same honours, the same privileges." She held my hand, moving away from me as she felt my arm tense, though she did not release my hand as she sat up. My eyes fixed on her, unable to shift as she tossed her hair from her body, bringing her breasts into full view. Her smile was subtle as she heard the breath hitch in my throat. Exhaled slowly as she chose to continue, as ever persistent. "Men like William Hastings, born no higher than my father, they do look down upon him. Upon all my kin alike." 

"So what is it you request I do Lisbet? Will Hastings has shown naught but loyalty for my family. He served my father before me and you would well remember that. Dick of Warwick, he is my cousin and-"

"He opposed our marriage." She snapped, perhaps a little too harshly. She noticed, for when she spoke next, there was a soft tone to her words. "Ned, darling, do you so readily forget that it was for the Earl of Warwick you were in fear of announcing our marriage for neigh on six months?" 

 

"I was not fearful. I told you Elizabeth that I would announce when the time was right. That was not until Reading, and you did agree to it." I did not scold, though from her eyes my tone must have been not far from it. She shied back, for a moment I thought this awkward situation in which we had found ourselves would disappear into the night. It did not, the awkward silence remained as she rose from the bed, collecting my shirt from the floor, she slipped it over her body. 

"Will you listen to me now?" She took my silence as confirmation. "So many favours you bestow upon the Neville's and upon lesser men than your Queen's own family. I ask a small favour of you. You will well know of the Lovell's?" 

"I have heard their names, yes. Did not John die not long since?"

"He did." 

  
"And what of it?" 

 

"He left a boy as his heir. A child." 

"Many men do Lisbet, why regard this one as special?"

"He will need a guardian, will he not?"

"I would suppose." She did not pick up on the twitch in my lip as she continued. 

"My father would be well suited. He could offer a fine education for the boy, in the royal household, or at Grafton if you would rather. I would not ask Ned, except we were well acquainted with the Lovell's, they too had Grey connections and-"

"And you would have me sign the boy over to your father as his ward? Lisbet, had I not already selected a suitable guardian for the boy, then I still would not consider it. Your father may have been forgiven his previous loyalties, but I am not so foolish as to offer the Lovell boy to your kin." She looked astounded. "The boy shall be Warwick's ward, and I shall hear nothing more of it."

"Why Warwick's? Why do you offer so many favours to him?"

"He is my cousin Elizabeth. He has fought by my side and he has not had questionable loyalties. In case I do need to remind you, your first husband was killed opposing Warwick at St Albans, and in turn he opposed me Your family did lie about the events of Calais when they claimed in complete dishonesty they were mistreated at Warwick's hand, at _my_ hand. They did not join me after Towton, indeed they kept their Lancastrian sympathies until our marriage was announced. So I will not hand a boy to them when he himself was influenced by Lancaster."

"He is a child! Edward, he is no more than eight years old! If he is even that. That is as young as Thomas. Do you question Thomas's loyalty also?" She flushed at my silence. "He is not like to remember Henry of Lancaster. He is no more a Lancastrian than I am. That is why he should be in my father's wardship!" She inhaled deeply, gasping at my shrug. "If you do so much suspect him, then surely close to you is where he should be? Then you may keep watch on him? If that is so, then he could be with Anthony-"

"He is Warwick's ward. Warwick is the most suitable man to educate him, will keep the boy in check. Do not make me question you Lisbet, for you would not stand up to it. Doubtless this is your plot to better your family, and shun my own. Well it will not happen, you will not convince me that your family are those most fit to take charge of the boy. Unless you forget madam because I do not, when we met at Grafton you did beg my assistance in the education of your boys. Unless that was your attempt to trick me? Then class me fooled. Now, I will not hear another word." 

 

Perhaps this was the only time she would obey me, for she said nothing as she gathered her clothes and mine, before leaving to the side chamber, the door slamming behind her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter I have made up completely. It works, sort of. 
> 
> The idea that Francis Lovell would be the topic of debate was an interesting one. I was informed on good authority that Francis's father (John Lovell) may have died around January 1465, which seems logical. Therefore Francis, being a young child, would have been expected to be a ward within the household of a great family. He undoubtedly was Warwick's ward. That Elizabeth would want the child within her own family's charge is an idea I thought both novel and worth taking a shot at. My reasoning for this is that Elizabeth would likely have wanted influence for her family, as well as herself. To re-establish them as true nobility, within the King's truest favour. The appointment of a ward, however (then) minor in his significance, would be a way of demonstrating this. The argument here would that was Edward saw firstly no importance to the boy, not in so much as he should be kept close, or would benefit from education within the royal household. Nor can we say he would have shown enough interest to think it worth the upheveal it would have caused to move Francis away from Warwick, a gesture which would surely offend the man Edward still most likely regarded a friend. 
> 
> Regardless, I wanted to demonstrate Edward as having a profound paranoia, the best way to do this would be to take an thoroughly insignificant little boy, of tentative Lancastrian loyalty (in so much as he was a child, whose father had accepted the House of York), and suspect even he of the potential to cause uprising. The irony is not missed that he then chose to enlist Francis in Warwick's care over the Woodvilles. 
> 
> On a historical note, the favours which were bestowed upon the Neville's (which Elizabeth in the chapter mentions) were lands, titles and honours, including the title of Archbishop of York bestowed upon George Neville (following the death of the previous holder in October 1464; title which Elizabeth would most likely have liked for her brother, though she would not get it), and John Neville was made Earl of Northumberland days after Edward and Elizabeth's wedding in May 1464. A gesture which though John rather much deserved, and one which predated Elizabeth's influence over Edward, she would likely have resented all the same. It is quite apparent that Elizabeth would not have liked the Neville influence from the start, and regardless, would not have wanted any family to out rank her own. However much they were engrained into the English nobility of the time.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to post this on the 26th May. Those who know me well will know why. But instead, I decided I would not. 
> 
> Historical notes will follow in time.

**Sunday 26 th May 1465.   
The City of Westminster. **

To appease Elizabeth I have often found was ever better than to let her stew. For when she is prone to anger, she is prone also to malice. That was a lesson I learnt early. Whilst any attempt I had made to remove my mother from the Queen’s apartments had repeatedly failed, arrangements had in turn been made. Few were to my wife’s unrealistic satisfaction. She often failed to understand our less than splendid reality. For in those early days, we could not afford the lavish luxury which our predecessors had enjoyed. It was no secret that Henry had acquired debts a plenty, debts my noble father had seen so much of. Debts for which my House had been made to pay. Yet Lisbet had her expectations, that a Queen should be kept in luxury.

No matter if she understood, I knew it difficult for her stomach that my Neville cousins could live with an extravagance she could not. That Warwick had bottomless coffers, a problem which made the insult of Neville betterment all the harder for my wife to stomach.

That was why I granted her wishes. That was why, in place of the luxury the bitch had held before her, I granted her wealth in form of palaces. Within the first months of 1465, in my attempt to curb her anger, Shene and Greenwich were made her own, with the addition of her own townhouse in Smithfield. If that had not been enough, jewels had calmed her enough that we could talk. That was when the decision had been taken on the last week of April.   
  
We were playing cards before the for once empty fire place on a night unseasonably warm. “If you must let Warwick be Captain of Calais.” She had said, a passion in her voice as she threw a card on the table, face down as she discarded it, taking up another. “Then let him be captain _in_ Calais. Why must he ever be like a dog  who fell in the Thames. Stinking around the court with his petulant attitude. I tire of it Ned.”

“You would have me send him to France?” I too discarded a card, taking another.   
  
“If he so treasures the title, and so treasures Calais as you have said he does, then why should he not be there?”   
  
“Because he is my cousin. Do you not think it is like scorning him? He will see it as dismissal and he will not much like that.”  
  
“I do not care if he does not like it at all.” She snapped, throwing three cards onto the table. “He does not much like me, in case you had not noticed.”   
  
“He does not much like our marriage Lisbet, there is a difference. The issue of him being humiliated in the face of the French is still a raw issue to him. Leave the wound and it will heal.” She looked at me with wide, glittering eyes. “I heard from my envoy’s in the French court that when Louis heard of our marriage, he expected Warwick would rise up in rebellion against me, yet do you not see that he has not? Does not testify to his loyalty?”   
  
“It testifies that he does think he still has you as a puppet.” She murmured, indicating to my hand in her instruction I should play. I discarded two cards, sighing as I placed the others on the table, not taking more cards.

“It would truly please you if I sent him to Calais?” She nodded. “In aid of what?”  
  
“I am sure you can think of something.” She had been about to hand me two cards, pausing as she held them. “Hastings too, for he does look at me with disgust.”  
  
“Sometimes my love, I think you do look for what you want and see it in people. Will Hastings is my closest friend.” She scoffed, I continued, my voice slightly louder. “He would not express such  a view so openly-“  
  
“He does not say a word! He expresses nothing. I do not need words to know the man does not like me.”  
  
“Are we once again children Lisbet? We cannot be liked by all, and we must choose our battles. He does you no harm in his dislike, and you are not worse for it. I will not dismiss Will to Calais to please your whim.”  
  
I had however been wrong in my statement. For the first week of May, in aid of the upcoming celebrations for Lisbet’s coronation, three lords had left for Calais as the welcoming party of the Burgundian envoy. Warwick, Wenlock and Hastings, all at Lisbet’s whim. All except Wenlock who had accompanied my closest lord to silence their suspicion; of course I had known it would not, and they had gone with anger in their eyes.   
  
Within a week of their arrival, news had reached me in a letter from Hastings.

_To His Most Christian Grace, King Edward_

_I write to you with grace news from Calais. The Burgundian envoy did arrive in good time, and our discussions were progressing well. Yet the continent does not rest well your majesty. Duke Phillip of Burgundy is like to die, his son Charles is already his successor in all but title, and at such news France is in uprising. Thus our envoy has dispatched, and we, your faithful lords will not return in time for Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, much to our heartfelt regret._

_We do hope you are well, and say prayers for the preservation of your health as we wait to return to England._

_Your faithful servant and loyal friend._  
  
Sir William Lord Hastings. 

Lisbet had been thoroughly unsympathetic as soon as she had heard word that despite whatever uprising, and the grave situations in Burgundy, her uncle Jacques of Luxemburg would arrive in time for her coronation. A request her mother had been granted, her obvious plight to prove her status within Burgundian nobility. Her claim to power in Europe, a stark reminder of her past importance.

I had been musing over the documents received from my ambassadors in Burgundy, informing me of the ever changing climate  when John Bourchier had entered my presence. His expression akin to a man about to be put to death. “My lord, speak up.”

“Your Grace, I bring word about the Queen.” He spoke quietly, stepping forward as he bowed. “She is right anxious about the impending ceremonies.”   
  
“Why ever is she anxious?” I sat upright, my eyes fixed on him.   
  
“She heard musings I believe. You know she faces criticisms of those who do not much like her.” I nodded, he pressed on as I leaned back, observing him as my arms crossed over my chest. “Well, as they said you should not have your coronation on a Sunday? That they could forgive with you your grace, for you are popular. It does not take much for a woman to be fearful of God. She wishes you would postpone the coronation.”  
  
“That shall not happen.” I rose to my feet, saying nothing more to Lord Bourchier as I left my apartments, reaching Elizabeth’s rooms within minutes. “Wife.” Her ladies moved away as I approached her unannounced. My wife was not crying, her face was as emotionless as a stone. “What is this I hear? You do not wish to be crowned for ridiculous musings? I did not think you lacking enough in sense to think listen. I was crowned on a Sunday, and it has not harmed me. It suggests that God is with-“  
  
“I do not worry it is a Sunday.” She snapped. “Whoever told you that?” Bourchier backed away as my gaze fixed on him. His cheeks flushed red. “Edward, look at me.” She rose to her feet, waving her hand to banish her ladies. Each bobbed a curtsy and backed against the walls. “I am queen am I not? The only queen.”  
  
“Of course sweetheart.”   
  
“This coronation, _my_ coronation, it will be grand? It _should_ be grand.”  
  
“Lisbet, I have invested all I can. I received a loan from the merchants of London, and that was no easy task. With no investment from your family and no dowry, trust me Lisbet, I have exhausted my resources-“  
  
“Is it enough?” Her voice was shrill.   
  
“Darling , it will be spectacular.” She sighed, about to talk when I cut her off. “There is a tournament planned, a feast rivalling none, it will be a grand affair and you, you alone will be in everyone’s attention. You will be second to none, not even me.” Should I have been annoyed that this did make her smile? Should I have been irked by my wife’s greed, by her desire to be leader not only of England but of her King? Whatever I should have felt, could have felt, instead I felt my heart melt as her smile was reciprocated. Her ladies eyes averted as I pulled her into an embrace, my mouth enclosing on hers, our tongues dancing. “Are you quite satisfied now?” She hesitated, nodding finally. “Now ready yourself.”  
  
I was about to walk toward the door when she called out. “Ned.” She was quiet. “Will you not be there?”  
  
“I will not. This coronation is your own. I will be waiting when you return to the Palace.”

 

***  
  
That was just the case. As Elizabeth returned to the palace, the crown upon her head, the breath escaped my lungs in a gasp as she walked approached. The light surrounded her as though she were sent from God. “Lisbet.” The smile broke my face as I whispered her name, her hand reached out for me as she neared. Her smile fading as I did not take it. “George.” My brother approached, carrying the small chest as I called. In Elizabeth’s eyes was a feint irritation, an irriation at my brother’s presence I knew. Though she said nothing, even smiled as George opened the chest for her viewing.   
  
“Husband, it is beautiful.” Her eyes glittered as I lifted the necklace, gold encasing emeralds. Emeralds which so bring out the green of her eyes. I did not hesitate to close the clasp around her neck.   
  
“Not as beautiful as you my love.” She blushed at my whispered words before together, her arm sat in the crook of my arm, we advanced to the Great Hall and then the festivities. That day many man dined too well, drank too much and at the tournament, laughed and cheered perhaps too loud. For when we retired to our bed that night, our eyes did close soon after our bodies  fell apart.


	31. Arthur

They say that one partner merges into another, and each face becomes the same. That no name stands out from another. For most that is the case, for many men do not discriminate one fuck from another, unless it is with his wife. Shame me then to admit, that was so for so many woman I have been inside. There is always that exception, and Elizabeth Lucy, she was one such example. For our affair had been fruitful, with two bastards to my name, even as I married Lisbet, even as I laid beside her after passionate love, I did often think of my former mistress. Our affair had ended as swiftly as it had begun. No more than three years of intimacy before she retired to the seclusion of her London townhouse. Doubtless I was out of her mind. A financial benefactor for her children, and I heard not a word until late the year of 1465. The weather had turned bitter, as cold as the turn of Lisbets anger. That was when word reached me. 

Sweet Edward. 

Your heart won't ache for my absence, or for your children's distance from their father. It likely will not pain you at all. Yet I dare beg for your assistance. I am close to death, with no provisions for my child. He will, without your acknowledgement, be left to die a beggar in the street.

I did not read further, for I could not. Lisbet herself had announced her pregnancy to me just weeks after her coronation, in the heat of mid June. Now pain shot through me at the thought of that child. That child I would give my life for. That child who already I loved. That child no more mine than those children living in the heart of London, knowing not who their father was. 

That was why I had sent my sister Margaret, in the company of her chosen ladies, to the house of my former mistress. For each moment they were gone, until they appeared in my chamber, my thoughts span in a dizzying array. "Ned." Margaret's voice was gentle as she approached, ushering the small child under her arm. "Art." She murmured, bending to his height, her gentle fingers rubbing tears from his tired eyes. I looked away as my sister shot me a look, taking my gaze from the frightened child. "Art, this is Edward, King Edward, your papa." 

"Y... Y'grace" The tiny child muttered. His eyes wide as Meg pushed him forward. The child's hands were shaking, he looked back to Meg, lip trembling as he did. Smiling only as she offered a small  
bow, a gesture he repeated in my direction. 

"Art, you must be tir-"

"My name is Arthur y'grace." 

Meg grinned as my gaze rose to her. She shrugged. "I spoke to the child." She mouthed. 

"Arthur. Are you hungry?" He nodded, a smile toying on his lips corners. "John!" The door opened little more than a minute later, the young mans eyes were red like a man woken from sleep, his hair tousled. Strands visible under the hat he hastily placed upon his head. "Have some food fetched from the kitchen." He bowed and left without saying a word. The child shooed away, backing into Meg as I tried to reach for him. Margaret sighed, lifting the boy into her arms. 

"Come now Arthur. My brother will not hurt you." She put him onto the chair I pointed to. "Where will he sleep Ned?" She whispered to me. "And what are your intentions for the child?" She pulled me to the side, smiling to Arthur as he looked at her, his legs swinging back and forth as his hands clasped in his lap. "Elizabeth will not be happy."

"Elizabeth shall learn to adjust. The child is an orphan otherwise." I muttered. Meg shrugged, as though she did not think it likely. As though she doubted Lisbet's ability to accept the child. "I will not have my blood so disgraced." John returned minutes later, in his hand a bowl of fruit. He gulped at my sigh. 

"It was all I could find so hurriedly your grace." I nodded, taking the bowl, dismissing him as I knelt before Arthur. "You like will never have seen an orange." He regarded me with silence, taking an apple from the bowl in a bold move with made Meg laugh. He bit into the apple, pausing his chewing as I brushed the hair from his face, seeing it flop to the side in a mass of blond curls.

***

The following evening we dined in private. Lisbet had been astounded as I suggested we eat in her chambers. It was as we ate, in the presence of our closest, that I broached the topic of Arthur. "Elizabeth." I interrupted the silence, heard her spoon rest against the plate. "I need to tell you something." I saw Hastings smirk as he gulped down wine, saw George lean back, whilst Lisbets ladies watched in apprehension. Her mother breathing lightly, beside me. "Today I received a letter, from a lady I have not heard from for some time now." My wife said nothing, her hands now clasped on her lap. "It was news she would die. I had a child with the lady-"

"The child is now here?" She said, noncommittal. When I nodded, I saw her eyes roll. "Where is this child?" 

"He is in my chambers, playing." 

"Do I get to meet your bastard?" I indicated a hand to Will, who in turn designated the responsibility to a servant of his own. His dark eyes fixed on us as he leaned back in his seat, watching with a mild amusement crossed with irritation. 

We waited ten minutes in an awkward silence. An awkward silence as Lisbets hand rested on her belly, stroking gently. I heard Will scoff as a smile broke in my wife's face as the servant returned, Arthur's hand in his own. My sons free hand clasped a wooden sword. "Art-" he glared at me. "Thur." I finished. He grinned as I stood, slapping my arm gently with the sword as I knelt to his height, he squeeled as I lifted him into my arms. "This is my wife, Queen Elizabeth." I carried him over, seeing Lisbets affectionate smile as the child laid in my arms, his feet dangling over my elbow, kicking as I tickled under his arm. He stopped his squealing as I put him down. 

"You my call me Elizabeth, Arthur." Arthur nodded, offering a small bow. "You are a beautiful boy. Much like your papa was. So very like him. You will grow to be a strong lad won't you?" 

"I will be a soldier! Meg told me so." 

He did not see my smile, nor did he see Margaret as she appeared in the doorway, smiling at the child she had bonded with, before her eyes met mine and her grin widened.


	32. Bess

**The Palace of Westminster, 1483**

William Hastings watched in silence; perplexed, wordless silence. Edward's skin had taken a red tint, above the translucent grey which had set in with this illness. Sweat beaded on his skin, sticking his sheets to his body. Sheets Edward had for hours being trying to kick away, sheets Hobbes had determinedly replaced. Now Edward rolled and writhed in what appeared to be agony, agony Hastings new came from the mind and not the body. Confirmed as his writhing turned to screaming, screaming so undignified. "Bess, dear God, no, Bess!"   
  
Hastings reached out, gripping his master's hand as he grasped hard. "Ned." He soothed, stroking clammy fingers with care. "She is fine, she is here, at Westminster." Hastings turned to the man stood in the corner, dressed neatly in his masters livery, stood silent, unfeeling as though he was not in this room. As though they were not in this god damned situation at all. As though the impending death of a king mattered little or not at all. William Hastings wanted to scream, wanted to grip the man and shake him. To shake Edward too, shake him out of whatever this was. Shake him into being well, into being Edward. Being the Ned he knew, he loved. But he could not, instead he whispered, still stroking his King's grasping fingers. "Fetch the Princess Elizabeth."

***

**11th February 1466**

**The Palace of Westminster**

Much as now, I had awoken with a start the morning of the 11th of February 1466. My wife's confinement had seemed to last an age, and seemed it would last an age more. She had gone into confinement on the first day of January, and though her absence had at first seemed normal, it had soon grown tiring and I wished nothing more than for her to once again be free to walk the palace halls. For every day I had heard her whining, experienced her sour mood and had on a regular basis been the one she blamed for her growing discomfort. A discomfort she had seemed to let fester as the days turned to weeks. Though the physicians and her midwives had been with her daily, Every day I had been told the same, the baby would come soon. it would be worth our wait for all were sure, it would be a boy. 

My startled awakening had come from a dream, a dream in which my infant child was taken from my arms and before me drown by a man I should have trusted the most. Bishop Stillington had worn a black robe, his eyes as red as the devil's as he pushed the infants head beneath the water. An infant son.

  
That was why I had found my way from my bed before the dawn sun had filled my chamber. The pacing had soon ensued, the pacing which had happened for days. Warwick and Will had dealt with my ill humour, my irritation and impatience well that day. They had dealt with my anger as I had that afternoon been turned away from Lisbet's chambers. They had sat with me in respectful silence until just before dusk, the door opened and Lady jacquetta entered, accompanied by a more favoured servant of my own. She curtsied as I stood. "Your Grace." She approached, taking up my hands as she smiled. "Your wife is well, and has given you a very healthy, strong, baby girl." 

It barely took a moment as I left the chamber, Jacquetta following me as we rushed through the corridors and into Lisbet's chamber. I stopped, looking at my wife from the door way as she smiled. Her hair had been brushed out by her ladies, her skin glowed and in her arms was a baby, her eyes open wide, her mouth opening and closing whilst her fists balled against Lisbet's silk night gown. "Wife." She grinned, holding up our child as I approached her bed, taking the babe into my arms, hushing her as she cooed. Perhaps it was for the fact that Bess was my first child with Elizabeth, perhaps it was because she was the only one who responded to my attentions, but she was the only infant with whom I persevered as she wriggled, beginning to cry in my arms, Elizabeth had been ready to take her from my arms as I began to rock her gently. She stopped her tears as she looked into my eyes, her blue eyes wide with fascination. "We shall call her Elizabeth." 

"Elizabeth." My wife repeated, a smile on her face.   
  
"Bess." I whispered, letting the midwife wrap the infant in silk blankets before she replaced her in my arms. "My mother will be her God mother." 


	33. Chapter 33

**8 th June 1467  
The City of Westminster**

On the third of June, 1467, Anthony known as the Bastard of Burgundy arrived in London to be greeted by my most trusted allies. William Hastings and Anthony Woodville amongst the head of the greeting party. Several days before, in a desire to see Warwick’s supposed influence dispersed for the occasion, I had sent him to France on a false negotiation. I have always suspected that he did know such a treaty with France was a futile affair, and after the rejection of the French embassy by myself the previous year, Warwick had found much he had needed to prove. Indeed, he had known that the December of 1466 had seen Burgundy send men to me, to negotiate for our alliance. An event which had come to nothing but the agreement that more should be seen to within the following year.

No matter, Charles had made his opinions quite clear. Warwick would not be welcomed within the presence of his men.

An opinion which had upset me little, and delighted Lisbet greatly.

Indeed, the Burgundian’s had soon settled into life in London, and were eager to engage with English politics. Thus, they had been present when parliament opened, and had sat in on the decision I had passed to dismiss the absent Chancellor (George Neville) from his position. I would hear from Warwick on this within just days.

 

***  


**The Burgundy-Anglo Tournament.**

On the first day of the contest, the jousts had taken place. Large fences separated either side of the ground, and I had sat as judge, beside Lisbet whilst her hand had gripped mine, sometimes so hard I thought it like to burst as her brother jousted with an elegance hard to not admire. Yet there had been no fatalities, no serious injuries. Nothing more than a minor scratch, and not a single one inflicted on a beautiful Woodville. Much to my relief, for I had known I would surely not hear the end of it had a single mark left itself upon her kindred.

That night, we had found ourselves drinking in the antechamber of the Great Hall at Eltham. A then dark room of singular unattractive as, a feature I have rectified these last years.

The women had left some time before midnight, and the room had grown quite boisterous as we sank deeper into cups. That was when the Burgundian had approached me. "Your Grace." He had offered me the most impressive bow I do believe I have ever seen, so flamboyant it brought me to silence, staring momentarily speechless as he sunk to his knee, placing his doffed cap to the floor. His blond hair, long waves, reached his shoulders. "My lord and master, his grace Duke Charles of Burgundy does thank you for your hospitality and takes pride in such an opportunity offered by you. Thus he informed me before I sailed, I should apologise to you in advance."

"Apologise? For what?" Will Herbert belched as he spoke.

"For the fact that the duke does not come himself." Hastings muttered the point which upset me most, falling silent as I shot him a glance.

The bastard was momentarily stumped, his voice quiet as he spoke again, as though he tested waters of some turbulence. "For the slaughter we are to inflict upon your English men tomorrow." He grinned as I laughed.

"Slaughter? Pah. And when I see it I'll be sure to send Charles some English wine to wash down the sweet taste of victory." I murmured, reaching for said substance, I downed enough to floor my horse. Dropping the cup onto the table, I clicked my fingers for a servant to refill it.

"He would rather have an English woman with which to wash it down your grace."

"An English woman?" I had ignored what Herbert had not.

"The Duke is a widower my lord Herbert. He does need a duchess, with only a daughter to secure his dynasty."

"It sounds as though you have a proposal. Pity Charles is not here to bid for such a wedding himself." Hastings murmured, resting his head on the table to disguise that he had consumed too much wine.

"He does wish for the hand of someone close to you your grace." He saw as I looked at him, his perpetual smile seeming to fade as he saw the severity of my expression.

"Who?"

"He does hear that the lady Margaret, your own sister, is yet unwed."

"And he would have her as his wife? That is why he sent you?" My voice was low, only several men still spoke a the chambers far end. Everyone else had fallen silent and were looking at us in sudden soberity. I do not know if they thought perhaps I would snap into rage, instead I wager they were surprised as I did not. Instead I leaned forward, watching the Burgundian as he spoke with a confidence befitting a diplomat. His words were unslurred and unskewed as he spoke with ease.

"Not as such, he wished me to mention the prospect of a match whilst I was here. Even if you ignored his requests this spring. Though knew you would wish negotiations-"

I heard Hastings choke on his wine as I muttered my next words with an amusement I fear my chamberlain did not share. "If tomorrow you win, then know, she will be his bride. If you do not, then she shall not."

His mouth opened and closed several times, though no words left his lips. That was until he smiled.

"We thank your grace."

***

The next day Lisbet had begged me not to fight. Yet the decision had been made. For the Burgundian had put forward his terms. That whilst he would fight Anthony Woodville with merriment, it was for my sisters marriage we duelled. Therefore the honour was to be mine to fight. An honour I was happy to undertake. So as I readied myself, letting my men strap on my armour, I heard Lisbets voice cut through the air. "Let me see him!" She charged into the tent the next second, my mother at her tail.

"You break all etiquette for an overreaction!" Mother snapped. "Do you see? He is fine and he is well."

"Lisbet, sweet blessed Mary Wife, what is wrong?"

"You cannot fight." She gripped my arm, brushing off the attentions of my squire. "Please husband, please." She took a sharp intake of breath, perhaps not thinking her next words before she spoke them. "I had a dream that you would die today-"

"You envisioned the kings death?" Mother snapped.

"Stop!" I growled at them both, stopping Lisbets retort. "It was a dream sweeting, nothing more-"

"And you are no good to England dead, so why take the risk at all?"

"Jesus Elizabeth." I groaned. "There is no risk to sport!"

"Sport? Is that what you call this-"

"You did not object to it being seemed sport when I did not fight."

I think perhaps she knew that she would not convince me, for she desisted, disappearing with a sigh.

It was not for another hour that finally, with Anthony Woodville, and Will Herbert at my side, I made my way into the fenced ring. There Hastings greeted us, calling forth our Burgundian challengers. The fighting ensued once Hastings had explained our parameters. We were not to risk death, instead it was the first to submit once strikes were three. It was Herbert who first fell, three strikes to the body of his armour. Soon, Woodville had taken his own opponent to submission, though fell in time with Herbert's defeater. That left just the Bastard and I present in the ring. Two strikes each, and the last would win. Hastings I saw watched in silent, tense apprehension. Our blades connected more than twenty times before, in a moment of his weakness, I was able to send my blade against the armour plating his ribs. "And I shall the wine with you." I muttered, smiling as the Bastard laughed. He did not hesitate to offer his hand, grasping mine before with a swift leg flick he sent me to the floor. I heard Anthony tense, Lisbet shriek, saw Will put his hand up to stop Herbert and Anthony's advance toward me. Saw Hastings smile as I laughed, my voice was a low whisper as I addressed the Bastard, before he helped me to my feet. "And I thought Charles of Burgundy was a man of honour, with similar principles to mine own."

"He is." The bastard shrugged. "Though he is not here, and I have been tasked with securing an English alliance." He frowned as I winced, feeling my dinged armour dig into flesh.

We said nothing more as we left for our tents. Upon entering my own, I had paused, seeing my mothers presence in the chair which was my own. She did not rise to her feet for me. "What was all of that about Edward?"

"It was sport, merriment-"

"Yes, very well. If I was not your mother, I might too be victim to your lies. As it is, I am  
immune. So tell me, what does Burgundy demand? That you would risk your life to save honour?"

"There is no honour to be saved ma mere." I sighed, nodding as she dismissed my squires. Only once they left did she raise to her feet, helping to tackle the task of removing my armour herself. "Charles of Burgundy has requested the hand of sister Margaret."

Her hands paused, though she showed nothing more, beginning to pull at the leather straps of the vambraces which covered my arms. "Of course, I shall offer her to him anyway. As a gesture of good will. I did have time to think of it last night, and through today. I do not think it such a harm-"

"She will not like it Edward." Mother pointed to the bench, I sat as she unfastened the straps holding armour upon my shoulders. "She knows of Annes marriage, and of the deep unhappiness there. I think Margaret is a will of her own, though it will be her damnation."

"Any man who gets her beware-"

"You do not understand. You are a man and you are king, worse Edward you married for love. You do not know what it means to have your life dictated to you."

"I recall a time am mere, when Meg did say the same to me. Though not in as many words. You are right in one matter, that she does have a will of her own. That is why I will offer her to Burgundy, for I know she will be fine. Do you reckon I would send her to a barbarian like Exeter? Or to Burgundy if I thought she would break at his will? Meg is as clever a woman as you mother, and you are the cleverest I have known. She has learnt from the best, but now she grow alone."

Whatever else my mother thought, she said nothing. The next I would hear of it would come from Meg herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George Neville was dismissed from his position as Chancellor sometime between June 3rd and 8th 1467 in the presence of the Burgundian embassy. Though George Neville was absent with a supposed illness, the reasons given were that he had attempted to put an end to the Burgundy-Anglo alliance by preventing the Burgundian group to enter England. This has since been seen as a Neville way of having Warwick's input at the event (which is quite likely possible). Either way, it can be assumed that Warwick would have seen this not only a complete rejection of the Neville's but as an insult which could not be forgiven. I would argue this as a defining moment within the Edward-Warwick relationship which likely pushed Warwick toward France, and ultimately Clarence then Lancaster more than any Woodville marriage. Especially as the issue was approached so publicly and politically in front of Burgundy and in Warwick's absence, making the Neville's look not only unimportant but incompetent.


	34. Chapter 34

At my summons, Meg had entered my presence, sitting upon the chair I indicated to. She did as always look pristine, her skirts neatly arranged, her eyes bright and she unphased by the Burgundians presence as he sat in silent judgement in the rooms far corner. "You may help yourself to refresh-"

"I have just eaten, thank you Edward." She smiled, her eyes for the first time diverted to our visitor. "Our lady mother has informed me of what you wish to speak to me of. A Burgundian-English alliance, within which I am your bargaining chip." She must have seen my jaw drop, it snap close as I searched for words. "I am not wrath, as you thought. Indeed, I expected this." 

"And you are happy with the arrangement my lady?" The Burgundian asked on my behalf.

"It matters not if I am happy, marriage is politics. Is it not?" The Bastard nodded, though I said nothing. "I am content with the decision, though I have questions." We all sat in silence a moment until Meg continued. "When am I to leave for Burgundy?"

"By the Summers end." It was me who answered, she nodded. 

"Would it not be better for England if I was to marry a prince?"

"It would not be better for England's trade negotiations.We do rely on trade for income Meg, and thus, we rely in Burgundy and Charles. In that he brings us security, and an alliance in the way of men should there be need of them. It brings you security also, in that Charles is a wealthy man of power, he is amongst the most eligible man in Christendom." She nodded. "And I do not believe him to be a monster." 

"He is not." The Burgundian spoke. "My brother, he is a handsome man of fine humour. He is merry and kind and he would treat you well lady. There would not be a need that was not attended to." He smiled, seeing Meg's blush. 

"Do I take your own features as a representation of his own sir?" 

"I do not think it matters how the Duke looks." I muttered. "What matters is that you agree." 

She shrugged, her voice cheerful. "Why if men can choose women on their beauty, may I not enquire of the looks of my would he husband? Can I not think of my own Plantagenet pride and how pitiful it would be should our children look like ogres?" 

I choked on air, smiling as the bastard laughed. "Madam, you are bold today." I spoke, half in scolding, half play. 

"No your grace." The Burgundian chuckled. "Madam, you need not worry the children would look like ogres, for if they had but one of your own features, they surely would be beautiful." 

Meg giggled, her eyes twinkling as she looked at me, rising to her feet. "I am content with such a match brother." She looked back to our Burgundian guest. "Tell Charles when you return of our conversation. Tell him of me, of the beauty you do charm me for, and of my willingness to bare him issue." Meg left without another word, in what I thought to be her absence I heard our guest murmur. 

"Has your wife cooled her heels? On the matter of yesterday's bet?" He approached me, grinning as he poured wine for us both. 

"She does not know the truth of it. For she would be wrath if she was to hear it."

"Duke Charles too may think the alliance a scam if he heard of it. After all, no man wants to have to win a woman through a fight. Much less one they were absent for. It is not charming, it won't appeal to his humour as it does to yours. He may think you not willing to ally yourself with Burgundy and-"

"My marriage was arranged as part of a bet?" Meg's voice was a cold whisper. One which made me freeze. It felt like an age before she spoke again, this time in a shout like none id hear from her. For Meg so rarely displayed anger so visibly. "Speak to me! Don't be a coward Edward, answer my question!" All I could do was nod, for lying I knew would be futile. "Who placed such a bet? Was it you?" Again, I nodded. "Leave us." She snapped to our guest. He did not hesitate, obeying moments before she began to pace. Her pacing ended before me, she paused, visibly mustering her strength before her hand connected swiftly with my cheek. "I have never been so insulted, by my brother, my King of all people. Tell me, what was this bet?" 

"That should he win, you would be wed." 

"And he did not win, and yet I am to marry. So what have you proved? Save England's king is at Burgundys command. Charles will have you by the balls and I am his wife against my kings will." 

"It was not against my will-"

"Forgive me if I say what Louis will see! What Charles will see." 

"It was a drunken bet, on which I had time to reflect-"

"You blame it on alcohol as though that does make it right! Never have I thought you a fool till now. Never." Her next words were filled with disappointment. "Now I am certain of it. Ned, I used to look up to you. Now? Now I have never been so glad that Dickon is in Middleham, and God help George, for your influence? He will be damned. Whatever happened to the importance of marriage? You do not seem to regard it as a matter of importance. It's another jest to you-" 

"That's enough." I snapped. "I have heard enough Margaret. The marriage will happen, as you have agreed, and shall like it. Charles shall known this is not submission, it is negotiation."I heard her scoff. "Now leave me." She did not hesitate, storming from the chamber, the door slamming behind it. Though I was not alone for long as a servant announced the presence of our most honoured Burgundian guest.

"I hope I have not caused you trouble your grace." 

"You have done nothing." I sighed. "It is I who must apologise to you for my sisters outburst, and to Charles for the task he is about to undertake." 

The bastard shook his head. "No." He chuckled quietly to himself. "Quite unnecessary your grace." He continued as I raised an eyebrow. "My brother likes a challenge, and meek women are not his preference. He will see the Lady Margaret's beauty in her hot temper. She I am sure will make him feel alive."

"I am sure she will remind him often." He laughed as I sighed, earning a smile from me.


	35. Chapter 35

  
**November 1467 - Windsor Castle.**

Despite the apparent success of the negotiations held in the summer months, no marriage had taken place between my sister Margaret and Charles of Burgundy. Each envoy I had sent had failed, and increasingly I had found myself under pressure from the French. Pressure I had assumed was at Warwick's own doing. That perhaps was why my temper was falling ill. Negotiations were yet unmoving, and I had fallen into a silent submission that the alliance with Burgundy would have cause to wait till the better weather spring would hopefully bring. No matter how I had tried to sooth my own thoughts, they had dwelled in blame like a black cloud of rain lingers till men are sodden to the bone. Blame laid at the feet of those who were supposedly my closest. For in May 1466 I had taken action enough to send to the continent Hastings, Warwick and Wenlock, to discuss the possibility not just of a Burgundian alliance, but at Warwick's own persausion, a French alliance. Though Hastings had taken charge I had heard, with my direction for Burgundian priority. Hastings had held firm in his mind my motivations - the embargo placed by Duke Phillip on English cloth had failed to be lifted in the two years since it had been passed. Will had seen it lingering on my mind like a plague. The negotiations had been hard, and from that which had fed back to me, displeased Warwick much as he had argued not only for a union between Margaret and Charles, but my brother George and Charles's daughter Mary. 

I had not known when he was sent what had turned Warwick so sour, and had hardly anticipated what disorder would come. Instead I had thought him discontented with the need to once again shun the French. Shunned later that year again as I had refused to speak with them in their negotiations, even as no word had come from Charles on the matter of the agreed proposal that summer. 

  
No matter how so many warned me against it,  I could not remove from my head the idea that Warwick had been responsible for the delay in this alliance. That was why as he arrived at my court, accompanied closely by Dickon, that winter, I had found it hard to muster a welcoming word. Instead, such a greeting had fallen to Will. 

 

Three days had passed before Warwick made his way by force into my chamber. "We must talk, cousin." He said more boldly than I had expected from him, forcing me to drop the cards in my hand at his intrusion. My mother rose silently, placing her cards on the table, she said not a word as she left. Ignoring me even as I protested she stay. 

 

"I do hope your intrusion is for a matter of importance Dick. I do not appreciate that my mother be dismissed at  _your_ whim."

 

He did not dignify it with a response. "Funds run short." 

"I fail to see why you raise this matter now." I stepped away from him, bringing a tense fist under control with a restraint so forced it almost hurt. "It is the middle of the night, and you have interrupted time I rarely have as my own-"

"Because you have refused me audience since I arrived three days ago!" I saw his efforts to cool his own temper, visible on his face. "Ned you have betrayed me this year. More than any other. I have forgiven you your marriage of that whore, I have forgiven that too many times now you have made me look a fool to France, first with your rejection of the Savoy girl, and then you allowed me to hagger a price for your sisters hand in marriage, only to sell her to Charles of Burgundy, Louis's sworn enemy, and when no avail comes of that you refuse to listen to Louis's requests and instead I must once again reject him on your behalf. I can let that slide Ned, but I cannot let you wrong me so openly when I have been nothing if I have not been loyal." 

 

"You speak of loyalty cousin, as though it is your choice.As though the option was yours and there was some other king you might show your support to. Might I say Warwick, that your decision was made when you backed my father at St Albans, and now you will back me. Now you will see that  _I_ am King, and that  _you_ are my subject, as much as is your brother's John and George, who do not think they may enter my chambers at their own demand at any time it does please them." 

 

"Pah!" He shouted. "My brother George was dismissed from his rightful place a chancellor at your command in front of Burgundy! You shamed my House in front of my own enemy! Then you speak of being my King as though it has ever been! You would do well to remember who put you there, Edward, Earl of March." 

He jumped back at my sudden laugh. "I do recall that you were defeated at St Albans, and had I not been the victor in Wigmore, our cause would have been lost and much like our fathers, we would have been dead. I recall also that it was you and your kin who led the Lancastrian bitch to Ludlow, and had us flee and our army desert. So do not preach to me that I should owe you loyalty. I have given you enough in reward already, for are you not the richest man in England? Richer even than your King? Did I not grant the Earldom of Northumberland to your Neville brother John instead of reacquainting the Percy's  to York? Did I not give you the care of the Lovell boy over my own wife?" His mouth opened and closed, I saw he seethed. "So you come now and say that the funds are running low, funds for what-"

 

"Funds for your brother's tuition, for all your greatness Ned, you have enlisted Dickon's education to  _me._ Yet see nothing from that. Worse, whilst you granted me the wardship of Francis Lovell nominally, I see his funds are still yours for the taking." He smirked as I gripped the table. "Yes, I know of it. Now, you will have been told the boy is now wed." I nodded stiffly. "I would appreciate if he did not remain as a penniless peasant."

"Because he is now your own kindred by marriage. How awful it must be for you to stomach it-"

"You owe me," He continued tersely.  "and him - for do not forget that whilst the boy may be in my care,k the wardship of the child is in your hands. If your conscience wont let you grant it for that, do it for Dickon."

  
"What does Richard have a damned thing to do with it?" 

 

"Richard seems to have taken young Francis under his wing." He scowled as I snickered. "You can mock, but I think it would please Dickon much to know his brother has it in his heart to do the right thing,  _for once._ Grant me the boys wealth and I will not absorb as my own. Dickon's education and the lifestyle you demand he holds is a costly business for which you pay nothing cousin. Francis is a child, he deserves better than this. I cannot provide for the boy limitlessly, and as he grows older and more boistrous, then he costs me more. He eats more, he needs more, he outgrows his clothes almost weekly and the physicians..., Christ Ned! The physicians." He sighed. "I have never known a boy to bruise so easily, and be so prone to injury." He whispered more to himself than to me. He continued as I glared. "Loyalty as you call it can run dry when funds do also.

 

***

I had agreed that evening to grant Warwick the wealth that was Francis's, and soon after the documents were drawn up and signed, I had dismissed him. It was not until the following morning I had chance to see Dickon. In a small family gathering, we had gathered in my mother's own chamber. Meg sat close to ma mere, looking the image of her in her youth. Her lips a thin line of authority. Though she had grown civil toward me, I doubt she had forgiven my act that summer. Doubtless it was made worse by the knowledge that no fruit had yet come from the seeds I had sown with the Bastard. As she regarded me, she had offered a feint, polite smile. One which had broken into a child like grin as George had approached, doffing his hat to her. "George." Ma mere spoke, her voice clearly cutting through the room. "You do grow taller every day. You will be as tall as your brother before long. Come now, kneel and I shall bless you." I saw my brother's reluctance as he looked at me, my stern look forced him to his knees and to willingly accept ma mere's attentions despite his youthful stubbornness. 

 

He withdrew only as the doors opened. Mother's servant announced, "Your Grace's, his royal Prince the Duke of Gloucester." My eyes fixed on the door, my heart jumping into my mouth as the man moved away to let Dickon pass. His walk was slow, his limp profound. Though his doublet was designed to hide it, I saw the feint twist of his back in the dip of his shoulder. 

"Jesus, Dickon." I was on my feet in seconds, taking him by the shoulders, my eyes inspecting him closely. "What in the Lord's name has happened?"

"Nothing brother, it does not ail me. It is but discomfort, nothing sinister I swear it." I had not believed him then, and do not believe it now. For my brother had seemed on edge, the lie was clearly in his eyes acting as confirmation of my own suspicions. It was as though he had read my mind as he looked into my eyes, for he continued. "Do not think that!" He snapped. "Cousin Dick had nothing to do with this. I was jousting and training and I hurt my shoulder-"

"Why was I not made aware?" I snapped, toward anyone more than Dickon. I saw his eyes widen, his lips move and he was about to speak when ma mere interrupted. 

"Edward-"

"No." I am still convinced to this day that whatever Warwick inflicted upon Richard in Middleham, his form was not created by a jousting incident, nor an injury in training. For countless times have boys, even myself, had those and never have I seen such a figure be made, cept by those tortured. Whatever punishment Dick did inflict upon my brother, I have not yet found the truth, and doubt now that I will. Lest it comes to me when Dickon makes way to London, as surely he will upon news of my state. Yet I do know in my own mind, that ever loyal, my brother has always guarded whatever he experienced at Middleham, and in recent years, Warwick's name has barely been spoken. 

 

From then on, we spoke little more of it. Though I regarded Warwick with increasingly suspicious eyes, I did not confront him on the matter. Instead my decision came to withdraw him from our cousin's care and into my own. 

 

**

The following morning I was walking alone in the gardens of Windsor Castle when the sound of feet running on gravel interrupted my thoughts. Thoughts which I distinctly remember. Thoughts which implicated Warwick not only as my enemy, but as the abuser of my brother, as the man who had so willingly harmed his royal body. As the tormentor a boy who represented Dickon. Francis Lovell had been innocent in this game, he had been a child I had entrusted to Warwick in an act of foolish over trusting. The words which had left Warwick's mouth not two days before were on repeat in my mind. 

 

_Christ Ned! The physicians. I have never known a boy to bruise so easily, and be so prone to injury._

With such words my mind had wandered to conclusions not far fetched. That the boy bruised not easily, but at the hand of my cousin who now justified his abuse. An act which made me sick, and a sickness which had brought me into the air. That was why I was not in good humour when Dickon grabbed my arm. His face became a mask of shock as I pulled it away to hard, raising it to strike him. Only stopped as Meg's voice made me freeze. "Do not dare strike him Edward Plantagenet." She sounded firm, firmer even than I thought our mother capable. 

 

"Dickon?" I muttered, lowering my hand I rested it on his good shoulder. "I did not see it was you lad. I.. forgive me?" 

He nodded. "I need to talk to you Ned." He said quietly, though not nervous, he was clearly testing the waters. He sighed in relief as I nodded, smiling softly as I once again began to walk. "I have heard musings, rumours which I hope to be unfounded." He did not give me chance to ask, only continued as Margaret caught up with our pace. "I hear that it is your will I do leave my lord Warwick's household at Middleham, to return here to court with you under your own supervision-"

"That is true. It is my will Richard, that you be close to me." 

"Then forgive my intrusion your grace, but I would rather stay in  Middleham." I stopped, looking at him. "The air in London is heavy and-"

"As heavy as the hand of Warwick? The one that does force you to say that, and the one which has inflicted such injury and pain upon you. Sweet Dickon, you do not know what it is that is good for you. Nor I fear do you know what you ask. I would not have this done if it was not for your own sakes."

"Ned, you are quite confused." Margaret muttered. I did not respond, listening instead to Richard's own account. 

"He does not raise a hand to me Ned. I have said, this..." He paused, whispering his next word. "Deformity, it was an accident and nothing more. It will settle I am sure and-"

"He may not raise a hand to you, not when he does know it would be treason. Yet what of the others in his care? Dickon you do not need to play the hero, you cannot defend those he does keep in his household and staying there will only see you harmed. If you do need proof brother, then look no further than the boy who is 'easily bruised' I cannot be responsible for-"

"Then let me be responsible." He snapped, interrupting my words. "I am fifteen now Ned, and I can have some will of my own. I will not leave his household, and when my Lord Warwick returns north, I shall be at his side and not here at yours. Though I thank your grace for your concerns, I do not think them founded in any reality I do know. I reassure you so you may rest easy, that I am not maltreated. Indeed I find more luxury in Middleham than even you have here in Windsor, or that in Westminster, or Ethlam, or Shene, or any other royal palace your grace does possess. As for Francis Lovell, I know not of what you talk or where your concerns come from, though assure you he is happy." He did not see my expression, else he did not recognise it. I doubt Dickon has ever had the capacity to tell ones thoughts, though in that moment he may have benefited, for I was right curious how he had known it was of Francis Lovell I spoke. It served only to cement a confirmed knowledge.  "Now if it pleases your grace, I shall take my leave of your company and wish you well until I see you anon." He did not wait for my blessing. Instead he left in a hurry, one which emphisised his limp and fuelled my irritation. 

 

"You are at risk of choking the boy, and all around you." Meg sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Ned I love you, but you are quite irrational-"

I did not listen to her words as I once again began to walk, my mind going over the events of the previous few days. Within that I had made my decisions, that Warwick was to be watched with hawk eyes and that I would find my confirmation. I could not get it from my head, as I cannot now. Warwick, my cousin Warwick, was beating the child he had sworn to protect. Beating him to within an inch of his life I was sure, for why else would Dickon cover for our cousin just to protect the boy he called his friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unease between France (King Louis) and Burgundy (Charles) was a recent thing, presumably coming about when Charles the Bold inherited the Duchy of Burgundy (a French province) from his father. No matter, England was a desirable party of alliance for Louis of France and Charles of Burgundy - both sought an alliance with Edward and England. This was something that was to play an important role in Edward's reign, and wider European politics. In 1465 the situation grew tense, and this was when we can assume that Margaret of York begun to be seen as an important piece in the wider political chess game of Europe. That being that she was the most eligible woman in England, being the King's only unmarried sister. Thus, she became a very desirable candidate for marriage, and one of much competition. Edward's desire to increase trading on the continent would also play a huge part in his decisions. That resulting from Burgundy forming the most powerful trade agreement Edward would and had made. A trade agreement seen shattered by laws passed by Duke Phillip in 1464, which had meant that English cloth (much cheaper than Burgundian cloth) was banned within Burgundy. Edward's own personal exchequer, plus the wealth of the London merchants whom he heavily relied on, was owed in part to the trade deals with Burgundy. Thus we can assume that Edward was experiencing a major loss in his own wealth, as well as seeing the Merchant's Guild grow increasingly tense due to poor trade on the continent. Either way the early negotiations (March 1466) between England and France, England and Burgundy and England and Brittany came to nothing, and it was only later a marriage contract was sealed between Margaret of York and Charles of Burgundy. Charles Ross in his biography of Edward IV seems to acknowledge that Warwick's influence was sharply declining over Edward. With the French humouring him more,it seems he perhaps thought he may be able to negotiate a marriage between Margaret and a French noble. That was not to be and Warwick may have seen this as a shunning of his own influence, particularly due to Woodville connections with Burgundy.
> 
> It is pretty impossible to say which motivated Edward toward an alliance with Burgundy. Whether it was his desire for strong trade, or his wife's influence, or whether it was for the fact that Louis had a reputation for manipulation and was far from a popular king. I would say a combination of all three, alongside pressure from the Merchant's Guild may have tipped him in that direction. Additionally the influence of the commons may have been contributing to his decisions, for France were not popular in the eyes of the common man, and little sympathy could be found for them. So, when in early 1466 a French embassy met with Warwick, offering Edward a pension of 4000 a year for a French alliance and Margaret of York, Edward was able to not only reject the prospect entirely, but to avoid all contact with the French embassy - though done carefully, he did not completely shun the French, only shunned the image of Warwick's iron grasp of influence over him. 
> 
> With regard to Richard within this chapter, I think it's important to clear up I am not trying to replicate Shakespeare;s image of him. Evidence suggests Richard had severe scoliosis (a condition deforming the spinal column). If we assume as we must it developed over time rather than was congenital, this would have happened probably during puberty - the age Richard is within this chapter. Logically, such severe deformity would have taken time to adapt to, thus the pain and disallignment of such severity would undoubtedly at least temporarily if not permanently have caused walking issues when not supported correctly.


	36. Chapter 36

The sound of a child’s joyful shrieks filled my ears before I turned the corner. For several moments they did not see me there, and as I stood, I saw Richard pacing down the corridor, with him was the familiar figure of John Neville, a child in his arms laughing merrily as he was tickled. I stepped around the corner, resting my back against the wall, I listened to their words. “He doesn’t get it Johnny.” Dickon sounded exacerbated.

“He needs time to adjust.” John’s voice was low, calm and unsevere, forcing a smile to my lips.

“You didn’t hear him. He was convinced. I saw it in his eyes Johnny, I know my brother. I know what he thought. When I knew he spoke of Francis…” He cut off, I could picture the shake of his head as he stopped pacing. The tapping of his boots returned, informing me he had resumed his pace.

“Ned is a difficult man to read-“ My cousin defended me, from the corner of my vision I saw him put the child on the floor. Seeing the boy run toward me, his dark locks falling about his ears as he set off at speed, that was I knew my opportunity to step out before my prying was discovered. Acting dignified, I pretended to have heard nothing, walking just past them before John’s voice caught my attention. “Ned, a word if you please?” he signalled toward the rooms which sat off the corridor. A private space for this confrontation.

He stepped back as my expression changed, Richard jumped as I snapped. “If you wish your word with me John Neville, you will have it here on this corridor.” I saw Richard blush, his eyes fixing on the end of the corridor. I smirked as I caught what gained his attention. The corridor was slowly filling, familiar faces were looking at us. Richard I saw was pulling John’s arm, his indication that he wished to leave. For several moments during the silence, I had expected that John would submit to my brother’s will, else he would beg a more private audience; but he did not.

“Very well, we are insulted by your grace.” He continued, talking over me as I was about to speak. “For we have heard that it is your belief that there is ill treatment within a Neville household-“

“A fact is not a belief.” I snapped.

He nodded. “What of these facts your grace?” He stepped slowly, calmly toward me, keeping phis voice at a level whisper. “I would like to know, for if there is ill treatment in my brother’s household, I am as eager as you to resolve it. I will not see my own good name tarnished by such foul rumours – George!” He suddenly shouted, the child’s feet stopped tapping on the floor, my cousin indicated the child should come. He pulled the boy under his arm, embracing the infant against his leg, stroking his dark hair. “Children are the most precious creatures on this earth, no?” I nodded. “If I was to find that my son’s tutor, in my absence, was to beat my son, without good cause, or was to cripple him? I would wish above all that he be hung. I do not hold my brother an exception from that, not with any child. A royal Prince no less? I'd hang Dick myself.” He saw as my eyes went to Richard, went to his shoulder. “Edward.” Johnny soothed. “You hold this against my brother?” I rolled my eyes.

“What in God’s name would you propose I should do?” My voice was high as I shouted suddenly, people took a sharp intake breath. I felt a presence close to me, felt Will’s hand upon my shoulder. “Tell me! No!” I snapped at Dickon, moving to grab his arm as he tried to step away. “You will stay, I am not done with you.” He looked at John, at John, tor confirmation who nodded that he should stay.

“Ned, what can I say to convince you?” John said slowly.  
  
“You can tell me the truth.” I growled.

“Ned, I am telling you the truth as I know it. I am telling you what I have seen. Do you trust me?” He did not wait for an answer. “I have seen my brother’s household, I have seen the children he has there. I have seen how he treats them and Ned, I would not see a bruise on those boys inflicted for anything but discipline. Not at my brother’s hand, nor order. I hold as much authority as him and I would end it. I certainly would not see whatever it is you think happened to his grace of Gloucester. I would not, not for loyalty to him, loyalty to you and loyalty to our fathers. Christ Ned, what has got itself into your head?”

“It is not you who should be accounting for the crimes at Middleham-“

“Then you would have my brother on trial for a crime he has not committed, and make a mockery of English justice?” For the first time I could recall, I heard an irritation in Johnny’s voice that was directed toward me. “If it pleases your grace, I invite you myself. Come and stay in Middleham, for a week, a month, a year! I will myself prove that these boys want for nothing, they are not beaten mercilessly. If you will not hear it from my brother, or from your own, then hear it from me, from your sister. Ned hear it from your mother. She will confirm it.” His eyes went over my shoulder, playing the last card he had. "Hear it from Will, for his wife, my sister, she knows." IHe saw my anger drop as I saw Will nod, saw my lips moving, though no words came from me. “Now will you spare yourself this indignity, and offer me a private audience?” his voice was a whisper, and a small smile broke on his too severe face as I nodded.

***  
When finally we were alone in my own private chamber, John changed tactics. His cool exterior was gone, he was suddenly jittery, pacing up and down the room as though he were a man with a plan - else a man like to lose his head. As though he were a man who had naively, unknowingly been sucked into the web of a spider and could not slip it.

I doubt John ever saw it thus, though he ever was the victim to Warwick's ambition. In my head, I still see him flailing in the trap which was his brother’s crimes, and John's own undoing, unable to get himself from Warwick’s wider plans and it would prove lethal. Even then I had known it, as John shook his head at my order that he should sit. “Jesus Ned, what can I say? I can see it in your eyes that you do not believe me, that you think Dick capable of this? Do you think that what happened to Richard was at my brother’s doing?”

“I am certain of it.” I snapped.

“Christ, you are not a simple man so why are you so blind on this?” He held his hand up as I went to continue. “No, let me speak. You may be king but you are ten years my junior, and you will benefit from my experience, I am sure of that.” He may have seen my irritation, but he pressed forward. “Do you trust your brother, if you do not trust mine?”

“I trust Dickon-“

“Do you trust his judgement?”

“Yes but-“

“Then you must trust that he recognises his own responsibilities. Edward, Dickon is a bright a man as I have known-“

“He is a child-“

“With the responsibility of a man, shall we not regard him as one for this? For he is one in all but your judgement and that is for his age, of all things Ned, his age. You are not loathe to pile on the pressure of unforgiving responsibility when it suits you Ned, but will not hear him as the man you already expect him to be? I recall a thirteen year old Earl of March who was wrath at his father for similar causes. Look now how the tables do turn!" He sighed as I shrugged. “Dickon knows he must be prepared to stand up for your cause and defend his own royal position if he must. He knows to what treason is and Dickon is as strict to the law as any of your subjects. He would not let a man exploit him, and he would not let treason happen under his nose. To him no less? No, neither he nor I would see that happen.”

“You are asking me to trust Dickon’s judgement and ignore my own?”

He nodded. “I am saying, do you think that he would let himself be in danger?”

“I am saying he would, yes, if he was to defend that boy.”

“What boy?”

“Francis Lovell.”

Johnny laughed, he actually laughed. “Dickon is friends with Lovell, yes. He has taken a liking to him, if only because he is small! So small, you would not believe it Ned. Because he was bullied, Dickon formed a friendship with Lovell not dissimilar to that you held with Edmund. Because Lovell was bullied for being small, much like Edmund. He did not befriend the boy because he is the mutual victim of some… mindless abuse. Richard has your own standards, and he cannot stand bullying. There is no crime in that." He hesitated a moment, thinking quickly. “Besides.” He mused, his voice suddenly quiet. “Whose is the wardship of Lovell?”

“My own-“

“So would that not too be treason?” I nodded. “And do you not think Richard is aware that the authority lies with you? That if you so wanted, you could remove Francis Lovell from Middleham and my brother’s care if you so wished? Or if he so wished?” I shrugged. “So would it not make sense that your brother should come to you with his concerns and save himself and Lovell a beating? Save them the death you clearly fear for them? And why if you are so concerned are you planning only to remove Dickon? Because Ned, because I do not think you do fear it, forgive my boldness but in truth I do not. I think you want to think that of my brother because you want to justify pushing him away. Do not think I have not noticed, this year you have shunned my brother’s and they are angry over it. That is your decision, and I for one respect your decisions and your authority. You do not need to justify your actions within a lie, within speculation.”

He spoke to me for another hour. After such had past, I called Will to my side, ensuring the money was sorted and sent on to Warwick. With that, the wardship of Francis Lovell was finally signed to him and Dickon had his wish. He would return to Middleham for another year.


	37. Chapter 37

The inn was cold, my hands numb as they rested against the timber, looking onto the street. Looking onto the small town, a small town about to come to disarray as Warwick clattered down the street with his men in tow. In that moment however, the streets were silent. No one so much as spoke for several moments. Like the street below, the room was still, though I was not alone, it felt so truly desolate. 

Warwick, my cousin Warwick had betrayed me. He wished to put my brother George on the throne, he wished me to abdicate. Abdicate as though there were some hidden honour in it, as though as it was Warwick's will, it was an expectation. A requirement, a term and condition for my survival, for survival in his favour. As though his disfavour should matter to me. 

"We wait here." Wills voice broke into my thoughts, a panicked shout. "Wait here for him. If he does get you Ned, if he reaches here and you surrender, I should as well have bowed to George in your place these last years, for he will kill you." His vice was as numb as I felt. Worse as he stood, approaching me. I had half expected his hand to rest on my shoulder, instead it did not. Instead he found the wash bowl, thrusting it across the room in force enough that Dickon jumped. "Jesus! How can you be so calm?" He panted to me. 

"Because Will, what choice is there?" 

"Freedom, prosperity, monarchy-"

"Anarchy, suffering, a revival of a civil war between two different cousins. Christ Will, think."

"So you will let Warwick have the power?" Hastings laughed in desperation, his hands flailing as he spoke next. "You will let him take the reigns of your reign, and your life?" When I said nothing, his arms crashed down. "My god, you are serious. He will kill you Edward!" 

"He will not kill my brother." Dickon received the attention of us both. "That is not to say I approve of your resignation Ned." 

"I am not resigned, I am not defeated-"

"You are putting your neck in the noose, your head in the block and your crown in George's hand, and he will take it." Will snapped. His words were cut off by the sound of horses outside, when I looked again people were milling, and Warwick's banners now rose above the men who accompanied him. My eyes however fixed not on Warwick, but his companion. 

"My cousin Dick was ever a smart man." I muttered, soon joined by my companions. 

"Archbishop York." Dickon whispered, a perhaps too affectionate smile slipping onto his lips. One which showed that he not only agreed with my own sentiments, but approved of our cousins method, though not his actions. 

"The whoresons. George Neville does have too much time on his hands I do wager, if only he were a cardinal-" 

"And then he would have as much time and all the more influence." Dickon sighed. "You know why he has done this?" My brother of Gloucester looked at me, with glittering eyes, tired eyes. Tired eyes I knew to be glittering from tears. Tears that it had come to this, tears that his heart had been torn in two. My hand took his before I pulled him into a tight embrace. From the corner of my eye, I saw Warwick look up, saw too that Dickon looked at him and his expression changed, his face paled. How he could not, would not ever know how proud of him I was that day. For whilst his decision to join me had not been easy, he had known it right, and unlike fickle foolish George, George with no loyalty to Warwick, George that only ever thought with greed of gain, Dickon had stood by my side. Dickon was there when I needed him most, there with Hastings who would need him too. Course Will too would never admit it, he would never tell me of the way he cried, how he sobbed on Dickons shoulder as I left. That would be for Richard to tell me in future times. 

"I cannot kill a priest. Much less an archbishop. Our ancestors did try it-"

"Henry the second, and Thomas Becket." Richard murmured, gripping me as I tried to pull away. His hands lingered a little too long, so long I found myself pulling them away. 

"Dickon you must let me go. Will, as for you, do not bar my path. For if you need proof I will not be harmed, then look no further than George Neville. Do you not see? It is a peace offering." 

"I still think you should not." Hastings said, though his words he knew were futile. He did not try to stop me as I made my way for the door, unlike Dickon he did not follow as made my way down the stairs and into the street. 

"Cousin." My voice was over cheerful, a tone noted by Warwick. 

"Edward." He regarded me cautiously, hesitating to hand his reigns to the man beside him, dismounting with an effort I had not expected. 

"The ride has been uncomfortable for you?" 

He did not acknowledge such a question. His eyes were fixed in Richard, though he spoke to me. "I thought I would have need to drag you from your hiding place." 

"And you saved me such a dishonour? How very noble of you Warwick." He humphed, looking around, I knew what for. "Dickon, have the order to have my horse made up. I shall ride with cousin Warwick. As friends?" Warwick scoffed, though when he regarded me again, meeting my eye, he sighed and nodded. "Then I am content." I turned to look toward the stable, looking back as Archbishop Neville spoke. 

"Edward, your grace." He murmured, low. Low enough his voice would not be heard by the surrounding townsfolk. "I must now insist what my brother will not." The Archbishop stopped, pausing as Warwick raised his hand for silence. This time, the order was given loud enough that the townsfolk heard. 

"I'll have your sword your grace, and your dagger."

"Would you have my purse so I cannot purchase new ones? Tell me Warwick, in front of these good people. Am I to be your prisoner?" 

My cousin sighed, his eyes scanning the now talking crowd. "No your grace, but since these people see you do come willingly into my hospitality, I would request it be unarmed." He saw my eyes fall on his sword. 

"Then if this is not an arrest, and I must be unarmed. Should we not hand our weapons to the priest?" I saw George Neville's uncomfortable expression, though soon he agreed, offering a hand to take up our blades, however unwillingly Warwick did relinquish his. 

That itself should have been indicative of his treason, though in my leniency I did ignore it. Wills words of warning, his shouts of Warwick's treason ignored. 

For moments then we did not speak as my horse was readied. Indeed Warwick could not look at me, instead his gaze fixed upon Richard as he returned. Gazed in what I knew to be an insult to my brother and I, a hatred that Dickon should have joined me. A hatred that unlike troublesome George, loyal Dickon had not disobeyed me enough to marry Anne Neville. A hatred that Warwick had not secured his grasp so thoroughly on authority, that both his daughters were not Duchesses. That his single opportunity for Neville blood to be royalty rested in my witless brother George. A prospect even Warwick did not find too attractive. 

Though he did not say a word. He did not blink until my horse appeared, guided by the inn boy. That was until Warwick snatched the reigns, dismissing the boy with a silver coin, for he did not want witnesses more than he needed. "Mount up, your grace." He said low, nudging me toward the horse. My hand rested on the saddle, my horse snickered, it's legs stamped, though I would not let it work it's restless muscles. Instead we stood in an impasse. Warwick looked at me, knowing my unspoken demand. A demand now Richard aimed to fulfil as his hand reached, ready to offer a hand up to the saddle. That was until I dismissed him with a wave. "Warwick. I believe I may have tripped on an uneven floorboard. For the inn, it is old. I require your help to mount." 

I saw his expression change, his lips drawn into a thin line. I saw George Neville shift in his saddle, saw his visible discomfort, though Warwick did not move. 

"Ned I-"

"Dickon, go inside and join Lord Hastings. I dismiss you from this, as you will not accompany us to, wherever it is Warwick offers me his hospitality." Warwick still did not speak, he did not move. Eventually, as the crowds began to tense in anticipation of a fight, did the earl click his fingers in summons of a servant from his ranks. 

"Help the king mount." He growled, low. Irritation filling his eyes as both my palms rested on the saddle and with ease one boot slipped into the stirrup and I mounted without the boys assistance. 

"My reins my lord?" My smile may only have served to irritate him, for he tossed them to me with a motion that whipped my leg. He only nodded to his brother, informing his men to march in at my speed as without his authority, I kicked my horse to a trot.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive in here  
> So alive in here  
> Pull it down a little please  
> I'm open wide in here  
> Smulderize in here  
> Saving Grace and killing me  
> You say this only makes me incomplete  
> I'm kicked around and rendered obsolite  
> Tell the mad chameleon he's not welcome anymore  
> I know what I'd looking for  
> Somewhere close  
> Somewhere safe  
> Somewhere I know  
> I know I'll never live in chains  
> The one is now aware  
> So stay away from me  
> I'm just too young to care

30th July 1469  
Battle, that was what they had called it, battle had ensued at Edgecote More. A skirmish which had been a blunder, politcal and actual. A blunder I will not deny was in part the fault of my own. My fault in that I had proven myself too trusting.

It had been Warwick who had brought Henry to London soon after he was captured, and Warwick who had gained rewards; gained rewards which had clearly fallen below his expectations. Perhaps he had believed himself deserving of exceptional treatment, exceptional treatment for something expected of any loyal subject. I would laugh, except even now the matter holds much more severity than I care to acknowledge.

His request had been unreasonable, and more a demand than a request. He had come to me one night, one night I remember like I am reliving it now. He had requested from me the marriage contracts between not only George and Isabel, but Richard and Anne. An issue which I had denied. A denial one of my brothers had at the time ignore. George had gone ahead and married Isabel in secret. From there the negligible had become open rebellion. Rebellion I had not wanted to believe that my kindred was behind, despite Hastings better judgement, despite his advice. Despite even my mother's word, and that I had seen the pain in her eyes as she had told me George was behind it, and implored me to forgive him, should he return.

In my generosity, I had offered his pardon, his welcome back with open arms. His rejection had been clear. Richard who had returned to London, when the marriage negotiations arose, when I heard that George had wed Isabel. Yet Richard had, to his merit, seemed loyal. Loyalty proven through the years, loyalty unfaltering, loyalty which I have no cause now to question.

Yet after their rebellion had fallen flat, George and Warwick had fled to Calais. When later they had returned the standards were not raised. Not until the northern rebellions once again became a thorn in my side, one which would leave a lasting wound, and later scar. Robin of Reasedale, that is a name I would never forget. All had seemed like another simple rebellion, that was why I had been so relaxed. That was why I had delayed, foolishly, while my men gathered on my behalf in the north.

My delay had caused catastrophe.

William Herbert died at Edgecote. He died at Warwick's hand. Died at Warwick's hand whilst Tudor was released. Henry Tudor, the son, the nephew, grandson and cousin to my greatest enemies. Worse, I still feel the pain as I felt it then. The pain that told me, it was my fault. My fault too that my father in law and my wife's brother, John, were caught by Warwick. Caught in a fatal trap.

Disaster had got worse, and when my progress north had halted at Northampton with Richard, Will and Anthony at my side, I had heard of the desertion of my men. That was when I had dismissed Anthony, dismissed my men with blessing. I watched them disband, watching till only ten men remained, among them my loyalist; Will and Dickon.

***

The inn was cold, my hands numb as they rested against the timber, looking onto the street. Looking onto the small town, a small town about to come to disarray as Warwick clattered down the street with his men in tow.

In that moment however, the streets were silent. No one so much as spoke for several moments. Like the street below, the room was still, though I was not alone, it felt so truly desolate.

Warwick, my cousin Warwick had betrayed me. He wished to put my brother George on the throne, he wished me to abdicate. Abdicate as though there were some hidden honour in it, as though because it was Warwick's will, it was an expectation. A requirement, a term and condition for my survival, for survival in his favour. As though his disfavour should matter to me.

As though he and not I were King.

"We wait here." Will's voice broke into my thoughts, a panicked shout. "Wait here for him. If he does get you Ned, if he reaches here and you surrender, I should as well have bowed to George in your place these last years, for he will kill you." His voice was as numb as I felt. Worse as he stood, approaching me. I had half expected his hand to rest on my shoulder, instead it did not. Instead he found the wash bowl, thrusting it across the room in force enough that Dickon jumped. "Jesus! How can you be so calm?" He panted to me.

"Because Will, what choice is there?"

"Freedom, prosperity, monarchy-"

"Anarchy, suffering, a revival of a civil war between two different cousins. Christ Will, think."

"So you will let Warwick have the power?" Hastings laughed in desperation, his hands flailing as he spoke next. "You will let him take the reins of your reign, and your life?" When I said nothing, his arms crashed down. "My god, you are serious. He will kill you Edward!"

"He will not kill my brother." Dickon received the attention of us both. "That is not to say I approve of your resignation Ned."

"I am not resigned, I am not defeated-"

"You are putting your neck in the noose, your head in the block and your crown in George's hand, and he will take it." Will snapped. His words were cut off by the sound of horses outside, when I looked again people were milling, and Warwick's banners now rose above the men who accompanied him. My eyes however fixed not on Warwick, but his companion.

"My cousin Dick was ever a smart man." I muttered, soon joined by my companions.

"Archbishop York." Dickon whispered, a perhaps too affectionate smile slipping onto his lips. One which showed that he not only agreed with my own sentiments, but approved of our cousins method, though not his actions.

"The whoresons. George Neville does have too much time on his hands I do wager, if only he were a cardinal-"

"And then he would have as much time and all the more influence." Dickon sighed. "You know why he has done this?" My brother of Gloucester looked at me, with glittering eyes, tired eyes. Tired eyes I knew to be glittering from tears. Tears that it had come to this, tears that his heart had been torn in two. My hand took his before I pulled him into a tight embrace. From the corner of my eye, I saw Warwick look up, saw too that Dickon looked at him and his expression changed, his face paled. How he could not, would not ever know how proud of him I was that day. For whilst his decision to join me had not been easy, he had known it right, and unlike fickle foolish George, George with no loyalty to Warwick, George that only ever thought with greed of gain, Dickon had stood by my side. Dickon was there when I needed him most, there with Hastings who would need him too. Course Will too would never admit it, he would never tell me of the way he cried, how he sobbed on Dickons shoulder as I left. That would be for Richard to tell me in future times.

"I cannot kill a priest. Much less an archbishop. Our ancestors did try it-"

"Henry the second, and Thomas Becket." Richard murmured, gripping me as I tried to pull away. His hands lingered a little too long, so long I found myself pulling them away.

"Dickon you must let me go. Will, as for you, do not bar my path. For if you need proof I will not be harmed, then look no further than George Neville. Do you not see? It is a peace offering."

"I still think you should not." Hastings said, though his words he knew were futile. He did not try to stop me as I made my way for the door, unlike Dickon he did not follow as made my way down the stairs and into the street.

"Cousin." My voice was over cheerful, a tone noted by Warwick.

"Edward." He regarded me cautiously, hesitating to hand his reins to the man beside him, dismounting with an effort I had not expected.

"The ride has been uncomfortable for you?"

He did not acknowledge such a question. His eyes were fixed in Richard, though he spoke to me. "I thought I would have need to drag you from your hiding place."

"And you saved me such a dishonour? How very noble of you Warwick." He humphed, looking around, I knew what for. "Dickon, have the order to have my horse made up. I shall ride with cousin Warwick. As friends?" Warwick scoffed, though when he regarded me again, meeting my eye, he sighed and nodded. "Then I am content." I turned to look toward the stable, looking back as Archbishop Neville spoke.

"Edward, your grace." He murmured, low. Low enough his voice would not be heard by the surrounding townsfolk. "I must now insist what my brother will not." The Archbishop stopped, pausing as Warwick raised his hand for silence. This time, the order was given loud enough that the townsfolk heard.

"I'll have your sword your grace, and your dagger."

"Would you have my purse so I cannot purchase new ones? Tell me Warwick, in front of these good people. Am I to be your prisoner?"

My cousin sighed, his eyes scanning the now talking crowd. "No your grace, but since these people see you do come willingly into my hospitality, I would request it be unarmed." He saw my eyes fall on his sword.

"Then if this is not an arrest, and I must be unarmed. Should we not hand our weapons to the priest?" I saw George Neville's uncomfortable expression, though soon he agreed, offering a hand to take up our blades, however unwillingly Warwick did relinquish his.

That itself should have been indicative of his treason, though in my leniency I did ignore it. Wills words of warning, his shouts of Warwick's treason ignored.

For moments then we did not speak as my horse was readied. Indeed Warwick could not look at me, instead his gaze fixed upon Richard as he returned. Gazed in what I knew to be an insult to my brother and I, a hatred that Dickon should have joined me. A hatred that unlike troublesome George, loyal Dickon had not disobeyed me enough to marry Anne Neville. A hatred that Warwick had not secured his grasp so thoroughly on authority, that both his daughters were not Duchesses. That his single opportunity for Neville blood to be royalty rested in my witless brother George. A prospect even Warwick did not find too attractive.

Though he did not say a word. He did not blink until my horse appeared, guided by the inn boy. That was until Warwick snatched the reigns, dismissing the boy with a silver coin, for he did not want witnesses more than he needed. "Mount up, your grace." He said low, nudging me toward the horse. My hand rested on the saddle, my horse snickered, it's legs stamped, though I would not let it work it's restless muscles. Instead we stood in an impasse. Warwick looked at me, knowing my unspoken demand. A demand now Richard aimed to fulfil as his hand reached, ready to offer a hand up to the saddle. That was until I dismissed him with a wave. "Warwick. I believe I may have tripped on an uneven floorboard. For the inn, it is old. I require your help to mount."

I saw his expression change, his lips drawn into a thin line. I saw George Neville shift in his saddle, saw his visible discomfort, though Warwick did not move.

"Ned I-"

"Dickon, go inside and join Lord Hastings. I dismiss you from this, as you will not accompany us to, wherever it is Warwick offers me his hospitality." Warwick still did not speak, he did not move. Eventually, as the crowds began to tense in anticipation of a fight, did the earl click his fingers in summons of a servant from his ranks.

"Help the king mount." He growled, low. Irritation filling his eyes as both my palms rested on the saddle and with ease one boot slipped into the stirrup and I mounted without the boys assistance.

"My reins my lord?" My smile may only have served to irritate him, for he tossed them to me with a motion that whipped my leg. He only nodded to his brother, informing his men to march in at my speed as without his authority, I kicked my horse to a trot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to remind my readers that this is Edwards account of what happens, and true to what we know of his character, he denied much or at least neglected much. Especially that which was difficult. The Warwick rebellion openly started in 1469. 
> 
> Edward has certainly been criticised for the role he played at Edgecote, and it is this which is perhaps the military campaign for which he can be most criticised in my opinion. That being because he was too slow to act, and negligent of the facts which lay before him, which could arguably have been testimony to what would be his future failures.


	39. Chapter 39

**Middleham Castle.**

Our journey to Middleham was a slow one. One in which Warwick had grown increasingly annoyed. Annoyed for my slacking, annoyed for my ‘disobedience’; as though he, the Earl of Warwick did control me. His threats had been many, and some severe.  They had however acted as confirmation of my suspicions and of Will’s fears.   
  
_“Edward might I remind you that you are my prisoner. I have the mind to tie your hands and have you walk behind my horse, if you do not move.”_

In truth, I had no desire to travel to Middleham, and my chest constricted as we rode through the gatehouse, though I did not show it. Not especially as Warwick’s eyebrows rode at the sight of John Neville. Northumberland’s expression was like thunder, his eyes burning with anger as Warwick brought us all to a halt as his huge charger stopped easily before us. Whatever Warwick had expected however, Johnny did not say a word to him. Instead he made his way to me, offering a hand to help me dismount. “Edward, your grace.”

“Johnny.” I offered him a hand, pulling him into a stiff embrace. “How I have missed you. I did not know you would be here.”  
  
“Nor did I until two days past.” He then turned, looking to Warwick. “Brother, a word.” Neither Neville muttered another sound, before Warwick reached the top of the stairs leading inside.   
  
“George. Take our guest to his new quarters.” Both men then dipped inside, before George gripped my arm with a force that hurt, pulling me toward the east wing of the castle.   
  
“Come on.” George hissed.

“I will follow if you do lead, but I will not if you insist I should be dragged as though I am a child.”  
  
“You,  are, my, prisoner.” George gasped. “You will do as I order! I am the Duke of Clarenace and-“  
  
“And I am your king.” I snapped. “You will treat me with respect, for you ever were an arrogant brat.” I murmured, seeing him bristle. “Now unhand me, and lead the way and I shall follow.”  
  
Though George released his grip on me, I heard him whisper in insolence. “You do not hold the power here brother, it is Warwick and I who do control this stronghold-“  
  
“It is Warwick who controls you George. How you cannot see that, when you are not blind, I do not know.”   
  
“That’s enough.” George snapped. I said not another word, though he saw I was not defeated. Saw that was so as I turned instead into the Great Hall of Middleham, hearing voices as I cleared the screens, with George running at my tail. “It is treason.” I stopped, gripping George’s hand as he reached for me. John Neville’s voice continued to fill the room. “It is treason I cannot stand to see, from my brother’s no less! I will have no part in it! Do you hear me Warwick?”  
  
“I hear you John, and I reject it. You are here and to Edward? That is treason if we do not succeed! So you can deny it all you like, but in attending Middleham this day, then you are as guilty as I.”  
  
“Ned shall know I am not.” Warwick scoffed.   
  
“Do you think he will forgive? If we do not succeed, then John, you as well will die at his hands. So your loyalties must now go to George-“  
  
“What of loyalty brother? You speak of it as though you know what it means.” John retorted.   
  
“I have ever known what it is Johnny.” Warwick’s voice was cold. “My loyalty however should sit with George for he is the rightful king.”  
  
“As we declared Edward to be.” John snapped.

“Edward is a bastard. He is the baseborn son of an archer, not that of the Duke of York, lord rest his soul.”  
  
I heard John’s laughter, though I saw not the humour. Nor I saw did Warwick as I dropped George’s arm, making my entrance into the hall. “A baseborn bastard? You dare call me a bastard? I am your king sir and-“  
  
“Did you not hear him brother, I am to be king, and you, you shall rot-“  
  
“We shall see, shall we not George?” No one spoke for several moments. That gave me time for my eyes to scan the room. In the corner sat my lady Warwick, her daughters sat opposite her. “Lady Anne, and.” I turned to the girls.

"Edward, you surely remember my nieces?" John spoke because Warwick would not, the younger Neville brother cleared the room. "This is my Lady, Anne Neville." Johnny rested a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "And this, is Lady Isabelle-"

"George's wife?" The room again fell silent, George did not blush, he did not bow his head, instead he had the tenacity to grin as I looked at him. "A marriage I strictly forbade-"

"And you forbade it, why?" Warwick murmured.

"Because Warwick, because that was my choice, because that is my right and I do not have to justify myself to you, or to George or to a single damned person."

"You forbade it because of her. You forbade it because she did not like it."

"If, and I say if, that were so, then what of it? It is done now, my order was ignored and they are wed in the eyes of God. I will not make them repent for their marriage as you would have me repent for mine. I will not persecute this good lady for her husband, nor will I seek to punish George for his wife. It cannot be undone and so shalt we be best for forgetting the matter." Warwick nodded, gulping as I cleared the room between us, indicating a hand toward the chair I knew to be his. "May I?"

"Of course your grace, for you are a welcome guest." John Neville spoke for his brother, snapping his fingers for a servants attention. "Fetch the King some food and wine." The man disappeared in silence as quickly as he had emerged. Though his presence was soon replaced by a boy not much older than thirteen by my estimation.

"Francis." Warwick whispered, shooing the lad before he believed I would notice.

"Francis Lovell." I murmured. "Come forth boy." The child looked frightened I noticed, his dark eyes wide as he slowly stepped forward, his effort to put one foot before another seemed great. Greater as Warwick joined him, resting a hand on the boys shoulder. A hand I noticed that made him tense, a hand the child seemed to fear.

"Y...your grace, we welcome you to Middleham." The child was about to bow his retreat, at Warwick's signal. Stopped as I rose, crouching before the child I took his hands in my own. The child froze, his eyes screwed closed.

"Warwick, this boy is covered in bruises."

"Boys bruise Edward. Boys bruise when they fall from trees, when they fight in the gardens, when they train." He saw my skepticism, saw my scrutiny as I looked over the child.

"Francis, allow me to ask." The child did not respond, though he regarded me steady eyes. "Do you like it here at Middleham?"

"Very much your grace, it is my home."

"Your home, and does Warwick treat you well?"

"As well as he would treat his own son." Francis assured, though I could not believe. Could not believe for my memories of Richard's words. Memories of how Richard had been injured, injured under Warwick's care. Injured so irreparably, injured by deformity at Warwick's own doing. Had my cousin paid more attention, had Richard been in Johnny's care, it could have ended so differently. But the fall from his horse as he had jousted, the impact of his continued fighting, that alone had been the cause for his twisted back. The matter which plagued him so painfully at night. Yet I did not voice my opinion, I did not say a word as I let Francis from my grip.

Warwick was quick to act from there, dismissing the boy in moments, he approached me. "Edward, I insist now you follow me. I shall show you to your... lodgings."

"Nothing would delight me more."

We walked in silence as he walked me through the castle and out into the cold night. The rooms he had selected for me were indeed nice enough. A fine bed with lavish furnishings, grand tapestries and fine fabrics. For many moments I could have forgot my own predicament, until the reminder came that I was not his welcome guest, that I was indeed his prisoner, as the door locked behind him. Incarcerating me within two single rooms. Two single rooms in which I was alone, with no man to serve my needs.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you MichisAccount for tying up the end of this chapter for me :)

“Lady Anne.”

 

Tension at Middleham had been growing over the week since I had arrived. Warwick had tried his best, he had been careful in his attempts to keep me away from the main bulk of his household. I had noticed too that he had been careful in all aspects of his affairs, only two men served me at all hours, only one was my own. Warwick had been careful to select only those he most trusted to enter my presence. Those he trusted to report my every move I am sure. I do not doubt that Warwick would have desired to know if I so much as sneezed in the night. As such, my communication with the world outside of Warwick's household had become scarce, with letters written only carefully, for I was under no illusion that my cousin would not go to all extremes to know my plans.

 

That was why in the time I was allowed to roam free, I endeavoured to find answers, much to my brother's irritation. George I saw was looking over us as I approached Warwick's daughter in the courtyard. His eyes bore into me as Anne stopped, George stood policing our every move. I saw as Isabel appeared on the balcony, pushed back inside by her husbands, her eyes fixing on me for but a second. The Neville girl turned slowly, curtsying deep, her eyes downcast. “Rise up girl.” Her smile broke as she saw mine, took my hand gently as I offered it.  
  
It seems strange to remember it of all, but her hands were so small, especially in my own. So fragile in appearance, so tiny. I still now do not know how she did not break, for Anne Neville, she ever was a frail girl. Tiny in her stature, now she is a woman she looks little more than a girl.

 

“Your Grace-”  
  
“Edward.” I corrected. “We are cousins Lady Anne, you may call me Edward, as your papa would. We are here as friends, not enemies, no?”

 

“Of course.” She sounded happy, almost too happy at her response. Almost too happy, as though it were forced. As though somehow, she had rehearsed her reactions. “I am not your enemy, I am loyalty to the House of York, as papa.”  
  
“Indeed.” My tone was cold, I saw it in her face. “Forgive me, I am quite unsettled Anne. Quite unsettled indeed. By now.” I paused, looking at George, raising a hand in a wave as he stared. He did not respond, only looked away at my response. “Walk with me Anne?” She nodded, looking around before she fell into pace with me. “By now Anne, I am missing my wife, my daughters, my life at court. London. You would not believe how much a man can miss London, that cesspit though it is.”

  
“Cesspit.” She smiled, reminiscence clear in her eyes. “Your brother Dicko- Richard. Richard, he called it that.”  
  
“Dickon has never been keen on London.” I smirked, seeing the fondness in her eyes. “He will not be happy to be there now. Not happy at all.”

 

“He will be happy, for he will know he is there for you. Whilst your brother may not like London Edward, he loves you. He may not say it but, I know him well enough to see he does. He is loyal to you, so if London is where he must be, then that is where he shall be.”  
  
“You seem fond of him-”  
  
“As no more than a friend.” She was too defensive. Smiled as I laughed however.

 

“Sweet child, I would not suggest it otherwise.” She stopped only as I did. “Though something has been troubling me cousin, and perhaps it be in your power to clarify this matter for me?”  
  
“Anything your gra-Edward, I shall try, if it is in my power then believe it I will tell you.”

 

“Richard was injured, so I hear it, and now as I am sure you have seen that his shoulder is now permanently plagued with great deformity and... Well I cannot seem to push it from my mind how it may later plague him. So Anne, you must then understand, as you have great compassion for him, that I must know the truth of what has happened before I can rest a night soundly.”

 

For only a moment she looked aghast, her next words stuttered. “You... do not... you do not know what happened? I can scarce believe you were not informed-”

  
“Informed that it happened, certes. What happened? The tales are vague and I fear details are missing.”  
  
“What details are missing? I shall try to clarify for you-”  
  
“I cannot recall.” I leant against the wall, rubbing my temples as I saw her withdraw a moment, looking around, she turned back as I winced.  
  
“Is something wrong? Your head aches?” She sounded concerned, about to turn away once again.

  
“Yes, but it would be better if I could take it from my mind. What happened to Richard, Anne it would be one less worry on my mind.”

 

“I do not know the full details Edward.” She obliged. “Only what I saw. Papa took him off so soon after it happened, and had physicians at his side. I didn't see him for several days after.”  
  
“After what Anne, what happened?” She sighed, continued as I rubbed my temples again.  
  
“He was jousting, against one of my father's wards. Papa, he was voicing his encouragement. I suppose Richard was tired, he had not had much rest and father, well father was testing them...”  
  
“Your father was encouraging? They were under proper supervision when my brother was injured?”  
  
“Father says these things happen.” She snapped, too defensive. “Richard was hit, in the shoulder, and then he fell from his horse. Papa, he thought perchance Richard was dead. We all did, until he sat up.”  
  
“That was all that happened? You are sure?” I stepped forward, she stepped back. Though she did not run, to her credit. Instead she just nodded.  
  
“Papa fell into a rage with the boy, after Richard was removed to his chambers. I saw as much. I know as much too, for Frank-cis. Francis was so on guard when I saw him, he did not look well. At first, I thought he was just fearful for Richard. They were friends.”

 

“Francis, he witnessed the incident?”  
  
“No. Francis was busy with his studies. He only told me after he had witnessed papa's anger.”  
  
“He witnessed it? Only witnessed it?”  
“I do not... I don't think I understand Edward.”

 

“You said master Lovell did not look well?”  
  
“Not at all.”

 

“And he had witnessed your father's anger? Anger not aimed at him?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow as she saw me begin to pace. That was before I looked to her, muttering my next words. “I thank you Lady Anne, and will now leave you to your day. Though before I go, kindly tell me, where might I find Lord Lovell?”  
  
“In the classroom your grace.”

 

***  
  


The classroom was located in the east wing of the castle. The room I saw was surprisingly packed as I entered, without a warning. My entrance I saw was not as subtle as I had hoped, for the room fell ominously silent as they looked at me. Their tutor growing red faced as he addressed me. “You should not be in here I think perhaps you have-”  
  
“I wish to speak to Francis Lovell.”  
  
“My lord Lovell is engaged in-”  
  
“I think you underestimate me sir, I shall speak with him. Now.”

 

“My Lord Warwick will hear about this-”  
  
“And then he shall account to me.”  
  
Recognition snapped in the man's eyes, only then did he bow his head, falling to one knee, the boys in this room followed suit. “Your... Your Grace forgive-”  
  
“Lovell.” I muttered, looking at the boy as I cut off his tutor. It took a moment, a moment in which I could only stare at the child before finally he approached me, following me from the room and into the hall. “I must ask you something, and I am sorry to intrude.” Even then he was timid, he said nothing, only stared as his hands clasped so tightly in front of him that blood seeped from his palm. His teeth I saw were dug deep into the lip. “You need not fear child, I will not hurt you.” I put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him jump and freeze. “Jesus boy, what have they done to you?”  
  
“Not-nothing your-”  
  
“Francis, tell me. Has my Lord Warwick ever hurt you?”  
  
“Hurt me? Only when I have deserved it-” Francis's skin drained of colour I saw, and he did not speak another word. I did not have long to find out why.

 

“What in God's name are you doing?” Warwick growled, pushing the child aside as he charged toward me. “How dare you, come into my household and distrupt-”  
  
“Might I remind you Warwick, that I am your _welcome guest,_ and I am your King. If I choose to wander the halls, then so be it-”  
  
“That does not give you the right to interrogate my daughter and disrupt the order of this household.” He only then looked back toward the boy he had tossed aside. “Francis.” He growled. “Return to your lessons.” He then turned back to me, not watching the boy slip back into the classroom. “You, you will come with me.”

Warwick tried to prevent me from ever approaching the children again after that. And while I knew then to avoid young lady Anne - voluntarily or not, clearly she was a spy for her father too - I was not about to let him tell me what to do. 

I can't rightly say why the mistreatment of the boy mattered so to me. He meant a lot to Richard, that I knew, but he was still only a baron, no one of enough significance to risk alienating my cousin more for. 

Some of why I did it was doubtlessly to show Warwick he could not control me. Another was recognising a fellow victim of my cousin's in the boy. I am certain of it to this day, though he always denied it. He is a strong, brave man now. 

He was not then. He was a frightened child who ran to avoid me whenever he saw me after that day. Perhaps Warwick threatened him more should I manage to talk to him.   
I caught him once, in an alcove of the castle, weeping. His lip was swollen, but when I adressed him, he would not say anything but: "I bit it, your grace."  
I took him by the shoulder, annoyed at his constant lies for Warwick, but he shook his head, then ran. I could hear him sob as he did so.   
I gave up trying to talk to him then.

 


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where do I take this pain of mine?  
> I run, but it stays right by my side
> 
> So tear me open, pour me out  
> There’s things inside that scream and shout  
> And the pain still hates me  
> So hold me until it sleeps
> 
> Just like the curse, just like the stray  
> You feed it once and now it stays  
> Now it stays
> 
> So tear me open but beware  
> There’s things inside without a care  
> And the dirt still stains me  
> So wash me until I’m clean
> 
> It grips you, so hold me  
> It stains you, so hold me  
> It hates you, so hold me  
> It holds you, so hold me  
> Until it sleeps"
> 
> (Until it Sleep, Metallica)

Pressure had been building at Middleham, to an intolerable level. I had tried to keep to myself, to avoid invading the earls privacy. Whilst he still put out, for all pretences, that I was his welcome guest, it was evidently more apparent I was his prisoner. Whilst he still allowed me the privilege of hunting, I was never alone. Even when I slept, men kept watch of my every move. Warwick, and George, I saw grew increasingly paranoid. So as though I might jump from my bed and kill them in my sleep, no breath I took was private. 

Such had begun to irk. Fear, anticipation and anxiety all spread as contagious as a plague. That was what I attribute to what happened one night, when a cold had, I'd felt it, secured around my throat. I had startled awake, gasping for breath. No one had been close to my bed, no one had so much as pulled back the curtains. As I clambered from the mattress, into the room, I had seen the guards Warwick had posted one snoozing whilst the other stood tall, unmoving beside the door. 

The tall man did not so much as wince, while the sleeping guard sprang awake as the goblet beside the bed crashed to the floor by his feet, sent there by one arm. "Christ! You are sleeping? I never thought my cousin capable of such blatant incompetence!" 

"Y...y...my... Lord...I-" the sleepy man stuttered. 

"Silence! I have heard enough from you! I am not 'my lord', I am 'your grace'. your insolence will be reported, I assure you, though that will be the least of your concerns." I turned my attention to the other man. "You, you'll lose your head." He did not respond. Did little more than blink, though surprise registered in his eyes. "Unless it was you?" I turned again, watching as the sleepy man, now very much awake, opened his mouth and closed it, his skin translucentlypale. "Which of you tried to kill me. Speak now or neither will be able to again-"

"Edward." George stood in the door way, pushing the guard aside. He blinked back sleep, Isabel was at his side. "Christ alive Edward, what is this in aid of?" 

"I want Warwick. Now." I barked. 

"I am not awaking him at this hour." George scoffed. 

"Now George. Unless these men are yours?" George looked to the sleepy guard, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "I should have known." I murmured. "Your man was asleep on duty." I snapped pushing George back as he tried to grip my bicep, tried to calm me. "Unless that was part of the ploy? He would look asleep, so he was the one who tried to kill me. In your name." 

"You are without your senses. What are you raving about-" 

"Raving? Raving! I am not raving." The door opened again. "Johnny. Thank Christ you're here Johnny." He too blinked back sleep, surprise on his tired face. 

"Ned." He murmured. George bristled as John rested his hand on my bicep as my brother had failed to do. "What troubles you cousin?" 

"George, and he, they tried to kill me. As for him?" I looked to the talk guard. "He stood by and did nothing." 

"Ned think of your words, are you quite sure? This is such a serious accusation-"

"Do you think me a liar John?" 

"No-"

"Then I want them arrested! Now! Get Warwick." 

"I don't think that is necassary-" George spoke.

"George please-" John sighed, playing the diplomat as he so often, so unwelcomely did. 

"You say so because it's you're neck on the line." 

"Both of you, calm down." John shouted, too loudly, too suddenly. The room fell silent. He took an audible breath. After his voice was deathly calm. "I have the authority to have them held, as much as my brother so I will not wake him. I don't think it necassary. Now Ned, what happened?"

"Someone tried to kill me." He must have heard emotion in my voice, for his hand rested gently on my back. I ignored it then, as though it were a trick of my imagination when I heard Edmunds voice amongst the mess. 

It was George.... 

I snapped out of it. My skin however must have gone white, for John took me to the bed, sitting me on it. "You look quite ill, are you sure?"

"Would you not look ill if someone tried to kill you Johnny?"

"I think I would." He smiled softly, he sat beside me. I saw as George glared. "How did they try kill you?"

"Their hand... It was around my throat. If I had not woken..." I trailed off, once again hear Edmunds voice whisper.  
It was George.... George.... Warwick... Kill him, kill, kill, kill... 

"You're insane. England will know it. As mad as Henry, and it's not a wonder our cousin will make me king in your stead-" George muttered again. John now pushed me back as I went to rise. 

"What?" My voice was quiet, almost a whisper." 

"George-" John muttered. 

"Yes. Warwick is calling on parliament to proclaim me king and then, then you? You'll have run out your purpose-" 

"That's enough George. Go. Iz, take your husband back to his bed. You two." He spoke to the guards. "You are dismissed." 

"Who will be with the king?" The tall guard asked, practiced concern in his voice. 

"I will serve on the king tonight." He waited till we were alone before he spoke again, then his finger gently moved hair, looking at my neck. "Edward, will you listen to me?" I nodded. "If they tried, as you said, to kill you. There would be marks, something and Ned... There is nothing. They were not prepared to speak, not even to save themselves the block. Think man, do you not think someone would crack?" I paused a moment. "If it pleases you, I'll serve on you myself henceforth."

From then on, John was true to his word. There was not a day he did not serve me at some point. His men were there when


	42. Chapter 42

My cousin's voice echoed through the room, audible even through the thick walls. "My fault?! You are very close to trying my patience, brother, very close." I could not understand John's answer, for he seemed to be trying to be quiet, but whatever he said, Warwick exploded.  "My daughter! He frightened my daughter! Anne, who wasn't even afraid of the Bitch of Anjou!  And Francis!"

 

"What is it with that boy?" John exploded, no longer caring to be silent. "Both you and Edward, harping on about this crybaby. He needs a few good slaps, that's all he needs, not preference for sniffling whenever possible! "

 

"Cry baby?" I heard Warwick's laugh, so loud and cold it made me jump, my heart thundering. "Oh that is rich, coming from you! It takes quite some effort does it brother? For a I remember a boy no older than Francis who still cried not dissimilar. Without the trauma that child has gone through." 

 

"Francis is not the focus here. He is not even a concern.” His voice was quieter, more bitter. 

 

"Course he’s not. When-"

 

"When we have more pressing matters."

 

"So pressing that you thought it appropriate not to wake me but to manage the matter yourself. How appropriate. I had to hear it from George." Warwick's voice was high as he continued. " _From George_." 

 

"As Edward and I had to find you were to lobby parliament to make George king." 

 

"He did not." Warwick's voice was quieter, more grave. "How did he-"

 

"React? Extraordinarily well. Considering. He has not offered to remove our heads tonight. For that I suppose we should be grateful for that.”  
  
“From what I hear from George, he would have half the household arrested.”  
  
“From which he has been dissuaded.” John's tone was matter-of-fact.   
  
I heard Warwick snicker. “What happened in there Johnny?” I heard Warwick's feet heavy on the floorboards in the next room. Stopped suddenly.

  
“Don't wake him up! He's asleep Dick. As long as he's sleeping he isn't causing you pain. You do not want him around, as much is apparent so-”  
  
“John.” Warwick's tone was sharp, authoritative. “ _Do not_ push me.”

  
“He awoke suddenly, under the belief someone was trying to kill him.”  
  
“That is ridiculous-”  
  
“It does not matter if it is ridiculous or plausible, or indeed the god damned truth. What matters is that he believes it. What matters is that I, your own brother, cannot be sure enough it is below you.” 

 

"Yet you are prepared to assume that _he_ could be correct. Do you doubt me that much?"  
  
"Perhaps I do not know what to think. Do you? Can you deny without a doubt that someone in this household would try to kill him?"  
  
"Yes. Can you, or even he, prove that they did?"  
  
"No. I don't..." I heard the defeat in his voice. "I don't know what to think Richard. I worry for him-"  
  
"So do I." I could barely make out Warwick's voice. "John I worry ceaselessly about him. I do not know what plagues him so, I do not know what has poisoned him, but he has changed from the boy I knew in Calais."  
  
"Less pliable no doubt." John snapped.  
  
"You buy their rhetoric too? You of all John, I thought would not be so blind. He has hardened, no doubt, as all men will, and must. The Woodville's, their influence-"  
  


"I doubt you can blame this on the Woodville's"

 

"What would you blame this on? His behaviour, it is so abnormal of late. He is irritable."  
  
"Under stress." John retorted. 

  
"He is... acting most strangely."

 

"Do not think I have not noticed. I am not blind, not stupid."

 

"He makes decisions so... mindless. Like his marriage, like his favouring of Burgundy. Like his decision to fight in that damned tournament. Like his negotiations for Margaret's marriage."  
  
"You will throw his marriage in his face over everything?" 

 

"John, do you not think this happened, began to happen long before his marriage? Do not say you have not noticed the deterioration. He is not the man he was at Towton, or in York. He is different. So do I worry? I am doing this, all of this because I worry. I worry for him, for his ability, for the trouble he will cause himself not just this country. I love him John. I did not at first, I remember times when he was as arrogant as a lad can be. Then when he was impertinent. Yet I have grown to love him. Do you think I regard George as the most suitable candidate for a king? No. Nor do I think him suitable. I want Edward on the throne. Edward as he _was,_ but Edward as he is?" I knew he would shake his head. "I do not want this to end in another war, but if he continues? That bitch, she will see his weakness and she, the woman who killed our father, who killed his father, will win. Johnny she will win, and Edward? He will be dead. So you must make your decision." 

  
"You are asking me to be disloyal, to my king?"  
  
"Disloyal for your love for him."  
  
Whatever Warwick wanted to say from there, whatever response he wanted from Johnny, he did not get it. A second later the door opened and as I peered through the gap in the curtain, I saw John retake his seat by the door. 


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normal thank you to normal person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My Guilt and My Shame always sell me short - always feel the same  
> And My Face and My Soul always wear me thin - always under control  
> But the longest hours you'll have in your life  
> Are the ones you sit through to know if you're right  
> So I'll wait, but I pray that I'm wrong  
> Because I think I know what's going on
> 
> So Let Me Get This Straight... the only will is my own  
> I do whatever I want and stay alone  
> All my decisions make it untouchable and tainted  
> I'm gonna suffer for the rest of my life  
> But I will always find a way to survive  
> I'm not a failure, but I know what it's like  
> I can take it or leave it... or die
> 
> STAY - You don't always know where you stand  
> 'Til you know that you won't run away  
> There's something inside me that feels  
> Like Breathing in Sulfur..."
> 
> (Sulfur, slipknot )

The longer I stayed at Middleham, the worse my mood had grown. More and more John, my only ally in the midst of chaos, had looked at me with growing suspicion. He had become a distant figure, one in the background like an unwelcome shadow. He had neglected to speak to me for several days before my patience had worn away. Whilst at first, I could have ignored his distance, it had become apparent that even he had begun to take effort in his avoidance of me. I would learn later his reasons why, when he had confronted me within my own chambers, saying that my behaviour had grown erratic. Yet he had said not a word. It was not until Warwick returned with George from London, their news should have brought my joy, though it did not bring me my freedom. For whilst parliament had refused my cousin’s proposal to make my witless brother king in my stead, Warwick had not seen this as remedy for this terrible situation. I do not know if it was mercy or mockery, an act of friendship or insult that he took it upon himself to invite me to dine with his household.

 

That evening, I had been preparing for dinner, having dressed without issue and, tired of my surroundings, had left my rooms to walk the grounds of Middleham. Men and women hurried on their duties, heads bowed and none dared catch my eye. Such did not inconvenience me, not as I walked alone, hearing the silence in the anarchy. The silence which was broken as Warwick’s voice cut through the air. “Find him, bring him to me or let him starve for all I care.”

 

I had frozen in the courtyard, hearing footsteps before her voice cut through me once again. “He will take your head, my love he will take your head now that George cannot have your crown. They will take the bloodied gold from your severed head.” My eyes had been closed, opening only as I heard boots on the gravel, the young man’s voice breaking into my head.

 

“Your Grace, my lord Warwick-“ Francis Lovell stood before me as my eyes opened. He stopped as I broke into his words.  
  
“I was asleep?” His mouth opened, and closed before I continued. “Why did you not wake me?”  
  
“Your grace was not-“  
  
“You insolent brat.” I snapped. “How dare you mean to tell me what I was or was not doing!” I barely noticed as around us, the men and women stopped their work, every set of eyes upon us.

 

“Your grace I-“  
  
“Hold your tongue!” From the corner of my vision I saw Warwick come onto the steps, seeing him at their top as the door opened, behind him stood John; his face pale as he stared in silence. “Do not think to interrupt me.” The boy stared at me for a moment, his mouth once again opening and closing of its own accord, his eyes closed, he seemed to be steadying his breath. “Do you do nothing but open and close your mouth? You neglect your responsibilities and do not know what to say to me? How do you ever expect to be a man if you-“  
  
“How am I supposed to answer you if you forbid me from speaking?” The boy’s eyes were wide, burning as he looked at me. I saw Warwick move, saw him make his way down the stairs toward us. “You were not asleep, so how was I supposed to wake you? Yet I find myself in trouble. Well I will not stand for it.” John too had begun to make his way toward us, overtaking his brother as he set off at a run.  
  
“Francis-“  
  
“No!” Lovell shouted to John, stopping him for only a second. “I will not be degraded at his pleasure.”  
  
“At my pleasure?” I spluttered, though I could not hold the cold laugh from my words. “Do you know who you speak to-“  
  
“I do not care.” Francis Lovell snapped, more boldly than he now acknowledges.  
  
“Francis, that is enough.” Warwick boomed, reaching us.  
  
“No. I will not be treated like this. Not again, do you hear me? I am tired of it!”

 

I had grown tired of his insolence, and had raised my hand in my anger, ready to send it around the boys cheek as Warwick caught my wrist in his hand. “That’s enough cousin, do you hear me? This boy is in my care, and I will be the one to discipline him.” The knowledge I had held had been temporarily lost, though it returned to me as Warwick growled to Francis. “Get inside, to your room, you will be lucky if you get table scraps tonight boy. Now go!”

“Discipline him? Of course cousin, you will take your pleasure in doing that-“ Warwick’s eyes widened, pushing Francis away from us as I continued. “It is your _discipline_ which has seen him this way to begin with.”  
  
“Ned.” John whispered, putting a hand on my arm. “Please think what you-“  
  
“Do you side with your brother, over your king sir?”  
  
“No, but Ned, please, I beg you-“  
  
_He lies, they lie, they will kill you-_

“Shut up!” Warwick turned to me then, gripping my shoulder as I tried to turn away, unsure myself at whom I shouted – was it John or Lisbet?

 

“Edward.” Warwick’s voice was stern, his gestures rough as he turned me toward him, grabbing my arms he held me in place. “Sweet Jesus what is wrong with you? That was too public. I have pushed you far I know that, but to shout at Francis Lovell? He is quite undeserving of that and you know it.”

“Undeserving? He spoke to me not like I am his king, cousin, but as though I am his servant.” Warwick grasped, clinging to air as I pulled away turning on my heels, I ran toward Francis gripping his arm as I caught him. “I did not dismiss you, yet you leave before you have accounted for your behaviour. I am your king, and you will acknowledge it, I will make you acknowledge it-“

 _He is one of them, their spy, traitor..._ Lisbet's voice snapped again. I had stopped, suddenly cold. An opportunity Warwick seized. 

 

"Ned." He soothed. Cousin Warwick seemed actually upset, but I had heard enough, stepped away from him. “I am still your king, even though you seem to have forgot it!”, I snarled at him. “And I will decide how I am to be treated. Certainly not like that.”

With that, I turned, left him and John standing as I walked into the castle, following the boy. My brother Richard`s friend, which had clearly gone to his head. I would disabuse him of the notion that because he happened to be friend with my brother, he could treat me like one of his playmates. He was friend to a duke, not ruler of a king, and seeing him, running along one of the corridors, I growled. The boy was not tall, and it was not difficult for me to catch up with him, even less when I thundered: “You will stay where you are!”, and the boy froze. He turned towards me, his eyes terribly bright, face set. He looked like he would speak, but I did not allow him. Without a preamble, I lifted my arm, gave him the slap he so thoroughly deserved and which cousin Warwick had prevented me from giving him earlier. “You will pay attention in the future to how you treat your sovereign lord”, I snarled. “You will treat me with all the respect I deserve. You will not spy on me when I am sleeping.”

“You weren´t sleeping!” The boy was screaming now, his voice quite shrill. “You were standing outside!”

“Don`t lie to me!”, I roared, but the boy did not flinch.

“Why would I?”, he shouted back. I could have believed him, though his statement was too logical to make much sense. How I wish now I had listened, but in my tangled mind... He must have seen it in me, else had greater nerve than I had thought, for he continued. “You have decided I am in trouble in any case, so why bother lying? What will it be today? Will you just beat me to a pulp? Or do you want me to kneel so you can empty your chamberpot over me?”

I had already lifted my arm again to give him another slap for daring to address me like this, but then his words suddenly seemed to register with me and I lowered my hand, staring at him. “What?”

_You heard him. What Warwick does to him. John too...._

It was Lisbeth`s voice that echoed through my mind, but my own thoughts. Before I could understand that, though, the boy was already shouting again. “But I won´t be treated like that. Not again! If you try to do it -”

I cut across him. “Lad.” He froze again, looked at me with suspicious eyes, and I imagine that my suddenly far more friendly tone must have baffled him. But despite his apppalling behaviour, I could not be angry at him. Not if that was what Warwick put him through. “My cousin will have to face justice. I you will but tell me exactly what he did to you, I will make sure he will be punished for it.” The boy`s gaze did not become any more friendly, and his tone was tolerably polite but not exactly happy when he said:

“My lord of Warwick did nothing to me. He has ever been treating me well.”

I snorted, impatiently. “You don`t need to bother lying. You just admitted it himself that he does beat you, and humiliate you.”

“He does not”, the boy murmured. “He treats me well.”

“Why are you lying?”, I snapped. “I know what he does. You just said it yourself! Who else would you have meant? I am half-minded to let you suffer the consequence of your lied by leaving you to him -”

"My father!”, Lovell suddenly interrupted me, now more shrilly than ever before. “He nearly beat me to death twice, caused me so many bruises I can`t recall a moment of being without them. My father! Not my lord of Warwick. Do you understand? My father!” I only stared at him, not knowing an answer. Did he really believe me that stupid? Did he not know I was perfectly aware his father had died nearly five years ago?

The thought that he, and Warwick, thought me gullible enough to believe such nonsense made me growl, and as the boy opened his mouth again, doubtlessly to furnish his lie, I did what I had been planning to do and slapped him again.

My hand connected with his face with more power than I had expected, and his head turned to the side with the force of it. I heard a crack even as he staggered and fell, landed on the floor with a small thud and remained lying there motionlessly, leaving me staring at him.

I was still panting, from my own fury, and surprise at what I had just done, staring at the prone form of my brother`s friend at my feet, when I heard a shout, two voices mingling, of "Ned!" and as I turned around, I saw Warwick and John hurrying towards me

Warwick was looking at me with a mixture of fury and awe, it seemed to me, but John, all thoughts of dignity clearly forgotten, rushed past me, falling to his knees next to Lovell. "Francis", he murmured. "Francis, can you hear me?" The boy did not answer, and John looked at me with such chillingly cold eyes I almost shuddered. "If you killed him", he began, and I never had heard his voice so icy again. "If you snapped a boy`s neck because you thought he sassed you, Edward, then I promise you you will never see any of your own children again. You will never set eyes on your court again, and that I swear."

I was saved from making a response when the boy, finally, moaned, and John murmured: "Can you hear me now, lad? Go on, get up." He put his hands under the boy`s arms, pulled him up, which the lad let limply happen. His eyes, if possible, were even more chilling than John`s. They contained such terrible fear as I have but rarely seen before.

A fear that I would still see in my dreams, even if I did not see it at the back of his eyes I have seen him in recent years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the exchanges within this part of the story are completely fictitious. There is no evidence Edward was treated anything but well whilst he was in Warwick's household, and whilst he may have been quite rightfully perturbed, angry yes, he was an excellent politician and would have known not to engage in any such behaviour. Much less would he likely have held an interest in most of Warwick's household without them standing out for good reason. 
> 
> Though Edward was by reputation affable, with good memory, he may have spent some time engaged in conversation or even cards, chess, and other such pass times with someone such as Francis (certainly not implausible) he wouldn't have interfered to greatly in their lives. After all, he had affairs of state to also see to. 
> 
> Like all of my other stories, this serves a dual purpose of raising awareness and combines both my passion and profession into one story.


	44. Chapter 44

It was the following week before I saw Francis Lovell again. A passing glance in the corridors had led to him, a blush upon his lowered face, running to avoid me. Whatever he had thought, he had not been quick enough. I had seen the blackish bruise across his cheek. I had not thought, I did not need to. Warwick I knew was in his personal chambers, lavish rooms with enough gold that he himself may give the impression of being king. No matter, despite his aura of authority, he jumped as I charged into his presence, the door slamming against the wall behind me. "Lovell, what happened to the boy?"    
  
"Edward, you cannot charge in like this-" Warwick sounded too calm, though his eyes screamed of murder, of treason.    
  
"What happened?" I snapped.    
  
"Nothing-"   
  
"Don't lie to me." John jumped on Warwick's behalf as I shouted. Despite that he had ever been regarded the stronger man in battle,  in his personal life  he had always been more timid. I ignored my mothers words, ignored her warnings that these men were not ones to be crossed. I continued. "I have seen the bruise across his cheek-"   
  
"The bruise that you yourself inflicted your grace." Warwick's voice was harsh as he snapped. "Do you know how hard you struck him?"   
  
"No harder than-"   
  
"Ned, you are a seasoned soldier, more than twice his size. He is a boy, he bruises easily-"   
  
"He bruises because you beat him! He tried to hide for you, you whoreson. Like you have tried to hide it, like you have tried to hide what happened to Richard but, but I know."    
  
"You know nothing." Warwick snarled.    
  
"Dick, Ned." John practically whispered. "Cousin you are confused. Have you slept well-"   
  
"All I have done since I arrived here is sleep!" John rose to his feet, resting a hand on my shoulder sympathetically as my voice rose in pitch. "I have told your servants to awake me when I sleep, but none listen! They say I do not sleep, but-"   
  
"Cousin, are you quite well?" John sounded concerned as he took me to the chair he had vacated, his hand going to my forehead as though I were a child with a fever. "Ned I know from my own servants, they say that you are not sleeping, that you roll in bed and mutter but never sleep. I would have someone sent for, please I-"   
  
"No!" I pushed his hand away, knocking the chair to the floor as I stood, my attention turning to Warwick, whom in his insolence rolled his eyes. "I do not need anyone, just to know what is happening, what has happened, why you feel the need to bring treason against me."    
  
Warwick shook his head, though it was Johnny who caught my attention. "I have looked into this myself Edward, nothing has happened to the boy and-"   
  
"And you would say that. You too are behind this-"   
  
"I-"    
  
"Don't make excuses John!"    
  
"I have been nothing but loyal-"   
  
I did not hear the rest of his protest, instead  Lisbets voice inside my head screamed: liar, he's a liar.   
  
"Shut up!" Warwick's eyes widened as I went to grip, reaching air as  Lisbet moved away from me. To this day, though I have asked her, she says she was not there. That she remembers nothing of what I experienced at  Middleham . Even now I am not sure. No matter, John's face was ashen as he looked at me only a moment. He said nothing more as he left the room, heading toward his own apartments. Warwick too was silent as he followed. Neither regarded me as I went in pursuit, neither said a word as the door to the solar slammed closed. That was when I followed a servant, standing behind the screen, I heard their words.    
  
"What in gods name was that about?" Warwick's voice was hushed, but angry.    
  
"He... He is raving like a mad man." There was a crack in John's voice. As I looked, I saw him sat upon the settle by the window. "Christ Dick, I thought we were away from this. When Henry was gone..." He trailed off for only a moment, when he spoke his voice was firm. "You will tell me, in truth and confidence brother, have you hurt Richard of Gloucester-"   
  
"John, you tread  peril ou sly close to my irritation-"   
  
"Tell me."    
  
"Richard of Gloucester was injured in a jousting accident. I have told you, he hurt his shoulder and-"   
  
"Then what has caused that twist in his back?"    
  
"Johnny if I knew I would tell you. I would tell Ned. Do you not think I want to tell him? That it would not be easier? He looks at me as though I would put a knife in him as he slept. In my anger I would John, after what he did to Francis, with the gall to accuse me? Give me five minutes alone with him." I heard Warwick's fist crash down onto wood.    
  
"Don't say that."  John sighed. "I would have him back in London. I am sure his  humours are unbalanced and-"    
  
"You cannot justify his-"   
  
"Will you hold your tongue and listen?" John sounded impatient. "He is not well. I do not know, I cannot tell what it is but, there is something."    
  
"So you would have me pay for a doctor-"   
  
"I would have him return to London, as I have said. I would have one of his own physicians tend him. Dick it is right queer." John went on. "You heard it as much as I, saw it as much as I. He was walking, walking! Through the courtyard, and yet he was convinced he slept. Of all the years I've known him, not once has he done this. Worse, he expected Francis to wake him from-"   
  
"Francis would not have." Warwick snapped. "Had our cousin been asleep I'll tell you, Francis would have run a mile to avoid that responsibility. If his father did anything? It was beat him to submission and now..."    
  
"What the boys father did is not the point. I do not care about a dead Lancastrian. I care little about the boy. I care about the king of England. I care that he is a lunatic!" I saw through the screen that John's anger was focused on the table, crashing to the floor.   
  
"John." Warwick hissed. "Walls have ears, now lower your voice. If you are so concerned then perhaps-" I did not hear the rest of Warwick's words. Instead the doors opened and I saw his irritation as a servant hurried in.    
  
"My lord-"   
  
"This had just better be good."    
  
"My lord, forgive me, but-" the servant panted, pushed out of the way by a man it took me several minutes to  recognise .    
  
"Warwick."  Wil l ' s voice filled me with joy. A joy I found difficult to hide as he pulled the hood of his riding cloak down, removing his gloves as he bowed to Warwick. "We are in sore need of refreshments. Three scores of men." He took a moment to look around. "And Warwick, if you do not mind awfully, I would like to see the king." 


	45. Chapter 45

My return to Westminster was not the quiet affair I did so sorely desire. Will on our journey south had enquired of my wishes. I remember my response now, and the smile which had come to his face at the suggestion of small comforts. I did not want a feast, or party, or merriment at all. I wanted nothing more than a quiet dinner, my own bed and a bath to wash away the memories that Middleham had indeed ever happened. 

 

Dickon had looked on skeptically whilst Will promised all without a moment's pause. A promise he was not to deliver. I do not forget to look which crossed his face as, no sooner than I had entered the palace, was I surrounded. "Ned." Lisbets voice greeted me. This time it did not bring the cold horror it had when it filled my ears at Middleham. She barely saw my frown as she cleared the space between us. "My love." She whispered. "You do not know how much this takes off my heart. You are well?"

 

"Quite well." I muttered, pulling away from her fussing as she stroked a hand down my cheek. Her eyes widened almost unperceivably as she felt the hair so alien to my features. She smiled at my chuckle as she recoiled. "All the better now for seeing you wife, and-"

 

"Papa!" Bess's voice filled the hall as she shrieked. That was my only warning as she bounded toward me, her arms securing themselves around my left leg.

 

"Bess." Her eyes were big wide as she looked up at me, a ridiculous grin stuck to her face as she clung to me. She giggled as I lifted her into my arms, tickling her until she wriggled. 

 

“Father! Stop! Stop!” She squealed between laughs. “Stttoppppp!” She reached for Dickon, and I could not help but laugh as he startled, catching her just barely as the three year old Princess jumped from my arms toward him.    
  
“Well Dickon, it seems you have an admirer.” I smirked as he blushed. My laughing restarted as my daughter stuck out her tongue in my direction.    
  
“She did just did not want to be tickled.” Dickon muttered, almost petulantly as he tried to put her to the floor, failing as she clung to him. My brother’s demeanor changed as Lisbet approached, her hands outstretched as she approached.    
  
“Elizabeth.” My wife muttered. “Come it is late you should-” Our daughter escaped her grasp, wriggling from Dickon’s grasp as soon as she had my own, running down the corridor and away from Lisbet. “Ned.” Lisbet mouthed, her eyes meeting mine as she tried to reach for our daughter. It was however Will who caught her as she stopped beside him. 

 

“Bessy.” He said as he lifted her into his arms. “Shall we take you back to the nursery? Let your mother and father reacquaint?” He winked at me as he threw Bess up in the air, catching her again as she came back to him giggling. He did not say another word as he walked down the corridor, throwing her up again at her demand. I saw Lisbet’s eyes, saw her irritation as she watched him. An irritation gone as my hand rested on her arm.    
  
“Wife, can we retire?”   
  
“You have just returned the people they-”   
  
“Can see me tomorrow. I am tired and... “ My hand strayed up her arm, catching her breast as it did. “I have missed you.” She did not blush, my only indication that indeed she had acknowledged my gesture was the trace of a smile on her lips, followed by a nod as I pulled her in the direction of my chambers. When finally we were alone, my lips sealed around hers, one hand securing around her back as the other nested around her breast. Within minutes, our bodies had joined, within the hour we lay upon the floor, our bodies covered with the sheets dragged from the bed. 

 

Her eyes had been closing, her head was on my chest as I exhaled. Unlike Lisbet, unlike so many other nights, I had found myself unable to sleep. Unable to think of sleep. Her eyes had opened, were fixed upon me as I gathered my words. “Edward.” She sighed gently. “What is wrong my love?”    
  
“I could curse him.” I murmured. “I could have lost my mind at Warwick, I thought I did at Middleham.” I shook my head slowly. “I did not trust a single man there, not even Johnny. Do you know what that is like? Not one person you can trust? Not one friend? No one you can turn to on dark, endless nights?”   
  
“Ned-” She stopped as my finger caressed her lip. 

 

“Let me speak.” She nodded, trying to force a smile onto her lips, though she did not succeed. “I learnt a lot at Middleham.” She moved slightly, I felt her edge away, pulled back to me, I secured her with a tensed arm. “Francis Lovell, my cousins ward, Dickon’s friend.”   
  
“What of him, husband?” Her lips toyed on my neck, as though she did not wish me to continue, though they stopped as I did; I felt her momentarily tense. 

  
“He is cruel to the boy. I have never seen a child so fearful. Fearful of his own shadow. Warwick of course, well he made it seem like the boy was scared of me, but I do not doubt it was an act.”   
  
“I cannot say it surprises me that the boy is mistreated.” She saw my eyes widen, saw as I looked at her, though she did not falter as she continued. “I can say I am surprised you are in part responsible for the boys fear-”   
  
“Responsible?” I sat up suddenly. “Am I too responsible for the fact his men tried to kill me?”    
  
“I am not surprised about that either, nor that you slapped the boy for his insolence-” She stopped at my next words, her skin turning pale as I went on.    
  
“You were all that kept me sane Lisbet. Not merely the thought of you. No. You were the one who kept me company on those long nights. How you spoke to me, how you knew. Though you should not have. Lisbet it is dangerous what you do-”   
  
“Edward I-”   
  
“No, people they fear it, they do not understand it. Christ Lisbet, there are rumours already. Do not feed them. Do not fuel the fire-”   
  
“What are you talking about?” She rested a hand on my forehead. “You are cold my lord, come, to bed. He has made you ill, killed my father and now my husband.” She got to her feet, reaching for her clothes. She dressed hurriedly, about to call for assistance, she turned back. “If Lord Hastings had not received that letter, I doubtless would have lost you too.”    
  
She did not say another word. She did not clarify this letter. It was not for over a year I would know of what she spoke. Not until Will told me as we sat alone in Burgundy. It was not until then my suspicions of Lisbet’s witchcraft were lifted. 


	46. Chapter 46

4th October 1470

The boat rocked enough that my stomach churned. Richard found me in my quarters, laying on the bed as my sea legs vanished. "Pocks on this weather." Richard muttered, though he smirked when he looked at me.

"What's funny brother mine?"

"You ever did boast you could cope better on the water than I! Now I rather think you were lying!" He laughed, approaching the bed, he half sat, half fell onto it, landing on top of me with a sudden jerk. He howled as I pushed him, his merriment seemingly dispelled by nothing. Not especially as he hit the damp floor.

"I was not lying." I muttered, petulantly.

"You know, I believe you Ned. Really. Many others wouldn't. That's all I'm saying."

"Horse shit." I groaned, trying to sit though my head spun.

"You know, the captain told me you've drunk enough of his wine to knock out a horse. Mayhap that is why you are so-"

"I'm not drunk."

Richard laughed again, I saw him wave a dismissive hand as he struggled to his feet. "Believe it or not, that's not why I came to find you."

"I'd never had thought it." My tone was dry. "It is not as though we have aught important to discuss."

"Actually." He said. "We do not. Not at this moment. We must first focus on landing safe and alive. That is what we must do. I wished only to see how you fare. This week has been, eventful."

Eventful was one word. In that moment, I lay still, the feeling of sickness filling me for much different reasons as I recalled.

"Edward!" Will rode to me as I stood, ahead an army. His expression gave nothing, beside me I saw Dickon tense, Anthony behind too I knew would be ready. I knew however that I showed nothing. Not even as Will struggled to bring his panicked horse under control. Nor as I saw his frustration, the disquiet in his mind showing little in his eyes. "We must flee." His words dropped like a anvil on a foot. Beside me Richard dropped his reins.

"No we-"

"Silence Dickon, I will not hear your protests. Will, go on."

"You are no longer king Ned, please we must go. Herbert is dead, Warwick thirsty for blood and John? Jesus but Johnny has only joined his brother. Raging still that you restored Percy as Northumberland-"

"Damn your foolishness-" Dickon had begun to protest almost silently.

"Damn petty grudges Dickon. George?"

Will shook his head. "With Warwick. Ned Johnny is holding back his army from the road, but we must go now."

From there we had fled and set sail for Burgundy. I looked at Dickon in that cabin with accusing eyes. "You ask how I fare?" I saw his expression change. Humour became severity, he nodded as he expected my next words. "You questioned me Dickon." The anger he had expected was replaced with a disappointment he had not. A disappointment which I saw stung.

"Ne....d?"

"You called me a fool for making our cousin a marquess. For restoring Percy as earl of Northumberland, yet you do not understand politics. It is my own fault in truth, as much is clear, and for that I am sorry."

"I do not understand." He murmured. Almost silent.

"I thought you a man in full, yet I think indeed in too many ways you are still a boy."

"Edward!" He was suddenly stable on his feet. I saw an anger there which had only ever occurred when he truly was a boy. When I had scolded him for playing too soon with a real sword. A real sword he had thought himself entitled to take. On both occasions I knew the outcomes were the same; allowing him the independence he so desired, allowing him to learn from his own mistakes would prove fatal.

"No." I sighed. "You do not know what it means to stitch old wounds. Now more than ever we need the support of our Lancastrian foes. Damn it Dickon how do you propose we are to make allies otherwise?"

"Reconcile with Warwick-"

"That is not possible." I shook my head, winning my battle, I sat.

"It was possible-"

"It has not been possible for some time little brother-"

"Do not call me that. You make it sound mocking."

I shrugged. Saw his displeasure as his lips momentarily narrowed into a thin line. Eventually he sighed. "Teach me then Ned."

"John Neville has ever had my love. Yet he lost my trust at Middleham."

"He's been nothing but loyal-"

"How sure of that are you? When he himself questioned his own loyalties. What do you even know of what happened at Middleham?"My voice was calm. He paused a moment, walking to the small window which overlooked the sea.

"I know you scared Lady Anne half witless."

"Please. She was not half witless. If you were not so hung up on the girl..."

"I love her Ned." He retorted. Saw my expression change, my body language too as I looked at him. He knew my unvoiced question. "I love you more. That was why I did not follow George's influence and marry her against your will." He smiled then, though he barely looked. "So you call me a boy? Then so be it. If I am no more than a child in your eyes-"

"I did not mean it."

He shrugged as though it did not matter, though I saw it did. "What happened in Middleham? John wrote to me, and to Will. Though he was so vague, yet so worried."

"What matters is this, it assured me we cannot trust a Neville. Was I not proven right?"

"Yes." He breathed, his next words were louder, more level. "I do suppose you were." He took a shaky breath, the only indication that this situation was one he found difficult to swallow. "Since you have been determined to make that fact a victory, I hope you are happy with the defeat which has accompanied it." He said nothing else, charging toward the door. I heard it slam behind him.

***

When that night I saw Will, his mood was also foul. The cold sea breeze felt as if it would tear skin in the darkness of the night. Breath was visible like tiny storms as we both looked over the black mass of nothingness. It was several minutes before either of us spoke, only after I saw Will wipe his eyes. "I never thought it would come to this. I've doubted, so many times I have doubted. Is now the time for honesty?" I shrugged. "I do not see why not, you can hardly have me hung for treason." His jest rang dry. Though he smiled at mine.

"I would not let your tongue be loosened too much by my new found status. I reckon I could still toss you into the water."

His smile however was false, though he clapped a hand on my back, turning his own to the water. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "I first knew doubt when I knew your father. I would have given my life for the duke, but would have bet it upon the fact he would not become king. Course, I would not have had Wakefield for the world. Except." He held up a hand, knew I looked at him, knew he must tread with care to escape plunging into perilous waters. "It has worked out for the better. I remember when you were an arrogant stripling. Some men in our company today Ned, they remember when you were no taller than a stool. They've watched you grow, and I heard many stories. Fond ones mostly. Though there were times I saw your papa despair. Despair for he knew not what to do with you. But I've seen you grow from a distance. Grow from a lad I could barely stomach to the man I love. From the moment I saw you in Ludlow, when you were seventeen, Edward I knew you were destined for greatness. Even when I saw you on your horse, inactive at St Albans. Though I recall you wished to fight." I smiled as he looked at me. "Edward you are a natural leader, a born king. Now? Now we are in a mess. Never have I doubted so much."

"Doubted me?"

"Yes. Doubted in your own ability. John Neville voiced his concerns to me. Concerns he voiced to no other. Concerns he trusted with no other. Tell me Ned, what possessed you in Middleham?"He must have known I would deny for he interrupted. "I am not deaf nor blind. I make it my business to know when something is wrong. Elizabeth did not leave the palace. She did not make contact with you. John stated your behaviour was strange. Elizabeth, she was shaken just after your return. I may not know much, but I know you. Whatever poisoned your mind at Middleham, it has gone?" He must have seen me nod. "Then the damage done may not be irreparable. Now take yourself to bed. Tomorrow we will be in Burgundy, and then we will need our whits about us."

 


	47. Chapter 47

Will, for all his good intentions, was not proven right in his predictions. Whilst I had known that any alliance with Warwick was inconceivable, I could not have guessed how bad it would get. As our ship docked in Burgundy, it was becoming increasingly apparent that our situation, though not drastic, was growing increasingly dire. Demonstrated by the presence of too many banners and scores of armed men. Armed men which I noticed were not in the direct command of my brother in law.

Worsened was the situation as the captain gave advance warning of the impending visit only moments before the door flew open. "Your Grace." The Burgundian bowed, doffing his cap; a gesture I repeated in a sentiment I had almost forgotten. "I am Louis de Gruuthuse, I have been asked by his Grace the Duke of Burgundy to escort you to your lodgings."

"To Brussels?"

"No your grace. To my own home, and it is there you are to board, and remain until such a time his grace sees fit."

"Days? Weeks?-"

"Indefinitely." He murmured, gravely. "If I could, I would have it otherwise. Yet that is the order which I am to follow. Your men, save your closest allies, namely and specifically Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester, Anthony Woodville, Lord Rivers, Edward Woodville, William Hastings, and others essential in the attendance of your grace's person. Though I insist your household be limited, for I have my own household who are able to attend your needs and will."

"We are your prisoners?"

"Our welcome guest-"

"Your welcome guest, or Charles's?"

"Burgundy's."

Of course, though I nodded in both defeat and accentuation, I was not foolish enough to neglect neither his tone nor the implications of our presence. If Warwick was the man I knew, I had known that France would be placing pressure upon Charles to surrender us to them, and thus for execution. Our presence in Burgundy was no more welcome than the plague. Though recognised it was that if we were to remain in Burgundy, as was essential, then it would be endured only under the strictest terms.

Terms which Charles played to his advantage. Terms which stated that Charles, for all his boldness, would not see us as long as he could hold out. He would not hand over an anointed King to the scaffold, yet he would not be seen to openly conspire with an enemy of France. 

 

 

***

Three weeks had passed since I had 'submitted', that was Will's word, submitted to Louis de Gruuthuse and Charles. We were confined in the the rooms of our apartments, Will's hand was turned to beating me at chess when he made the falsest move I had perhaps ever seen. A move which saw his Bishop lost. "What troubles you my friend?"

"Troubles? Nothing." He was cordial in his response. His eyes averted. Indeed I had noticed that in those three weeks he had not been paying me the visible, noticeable respect to which I was accustomed from him. "Check." He murmured as his Queen threatened.

 

I moved, sighing, "Do not lie to me."

"Check." He did not deny his lie, only moved his piece, I followed. A sequence that continued three times, resulting in two lost pieces before Will went to move his rook, pausing, he leaned back. "What if Charles does not see us?" 

"You sound like Dickon. I would accept that readily, if you were not even my senior. Dickon is new to such politics, and they are complex. You man? You were at my father's side in Ludlow, where you stayed and you survived, you were at my side at Mortimer's Cross, at Towton, and-"

"And so forgive me if I did expect that you would not submit."

"This is not submission, it is compromise."

"Compromise as it was with Warwick? What exactly did that achieve again." He slammed down his rook, taking my knight. A move for which I retaliated. I recall slamming the piece on the board as I removed his rook from action. "Ned. God you must forgive me, my nerves are frayed." He sighed, I saw his face soften, before worry edged in. "Middleham, John wrote to me."

"He did?" Will nodded. "About?"

"He wrote to Dickon too. Though the boy would not say a word of what was in his own letter, he looked greensick Ned. He looked angry and he looked scared. John said you were behaving so strangely, so unlike you."

"I was stressed."

"That doesn't explain why you accused Warwick's guards of killing you. That does not explain why you accused John himself of seeking to kill you and Ned, it doesn't explain why you complained that you were sleeping, when you were clearly awake."

"Do you believe all they tell you? Or will you hear my accounts too?"

"I'm listening Ned."

"Elizabeth, she visited me."

"No Ned, she did not."

"That is why I knew I must have been asleep. Except now I am not so certain."

I saw him pause, clarity followed confusion. He bit his lip, enough to draw blood, though he did not speak what was written on his face, instead he went on. "You know I love you Ned?" I nodded, he continued, finally moving another piece. He said nothing of the game as he put me in check once again. "You know when we return to England, Warwick must die?" I nodded, retaliating on the board as I wished I could in life. "You are prepared to do that? I know you love him Edward I know-"

"You know me not well enough if you think I love him too much, I must put my children, my wife before him. I do not love him as I did. I love the thought of him as the cousin he was, not the man he has become." I did not return Will's smirk. 

 

"He would say the same of you no doubt." He laughed as I scoffed. "Has there been news from England? Of the Queen?" I shook my head, hand tapping on the board. He did not falter, his hand moved quickly. "I think that it is you who is not on your game tonight." His eyes signalled to the board, mine did not follow. "Check mate." He followed as I rose to my feet, though he was still as I paced. "Ned." He whispered, I think he knew what I would ask. 

"What did John  say?" He faltered. "You said he wrote to you, when I was at Middleham, what did he say?"

"I don't recall it word for word. He was concerned, for you. You scared Anne Neville half to death. You hounded Francis, and Warwick? You tested his patience." He faintly smiled at my laugh. 

 

"Warwick deserved that." 

"Mayhap, and I would have seen that not just as your humour Edward, but your right. To accuse his servants of trying to kill you-"

"They did not falter Will. They did not falter. I wished to know how they reacted. Would I accuse men with no interest in my demise of trying to kill me as I slept? Do you not think me more rational than that?" He nodded, without hesitation. "Warwick however? He had the stakes high for my death. He would not do it himself, he is a coward, have you not grasped as much? He will not even face me over a damned battlefield, he could not himself choke me in my sleep. He could have ordered his men to do it. Indeed, I thought he may have. That was why I behaved so." He nodded again. "As for those others you mentioned. Anne Neville? She is a girl, easily frightened. Easily frightened more so when she obviously too believed her father capable of murder, and treason. As for Francis Lovell, Lisbet was right." 

"Right? About what?"

"Will, when Lovell's father died, when he was just seven, Lisbet petitioned me for the wardship of that boy. She told me harm would come to him in Warwick's hands. She begged me for him." I saw him bite his lip again, though once more he held his silence. Silence I knew he wished to break, though one I knew he never would, one he knew he never should. "Lovell was beaten to within half an inch of his life. Warwick himself said so." 

To that Will spluttered, choking on air, his eyebrows so high they almost reached his hair line. "He admitted to beating him? Half to death?"

"No. He denied that it was him. He willingly told me however that Francis Lovell was beaten so badly by his own father! As though Warwick would know. Tell me Will, why would Warwick take so much interest in that boy over the others enough to know he was so abused?" 

"Why would he go to such lengths to invent such tales?"

"Why would he not? Why would he tell me the truth when Francis Lovell was cowering away from the moment he laid eyes on me. When I first arrived at Middleham, Lovell was sneaking through that hall, and he did not wish to be seen. Warwick too did not wish him to be seen, and why was that? Why, because he knew I would take objection to the boys foul treatment. It was confirmed when the boy damn near sobbed as I took him from his class. Have you ever seen a boy so torn about being removed from his books?"

"Dickon." Will said fondly. 

"Now is not the time for jests. He would not sob. Lovell, I could hear his wailing all that night. That was not over being torn from his studies Will, that was because he wished to tell me, and he would have had Warwick not interrupted. Why would he interrupt if he did not think Lovell would admit to the mistreatment? After all, the boy had already told me that it was his father, his... He asked if I would beat him." My voice was low, sad. "Another beating is it? That's what he said. I had not laid a finger on him. Yet Warwick put that into the poor boys head. That his father was the man who did it. I cannot recall much of my own father, I cannot remember a single beating from before I was ten. I surely got one? I was no angel. No boy is. The first I remember was when I was eleven. I had fled the castle at Ludlow, to swim in the Teme. Ma mere was wrath. Papa hided my arse so hard I could not sit for a week." 

"Ned. I believe you. The explanations are wasted on me. They are not necessary. I would believe you if you told me the devil was on earth and here in this room behind me." 

I went white. I know as much because Will told me. I know as much because, as he said those words, I could have sworn that just behind him, that's exactly what I saw. 


	48. Chapter 48

"Edward." Richard's voice interrupted the room. We sat in the banquet hall, one table laid with food as we gathered, Gruuthuse, Will, Anthony and a handful of others. Richard had been the only notable absence till he barged into the room without warning.  
  
"Dickon. You finally are joining us? I thought perhaps you were starving yourself with worry-" He stopped his advance for a moment, eyes wide at my reaction before he continued. In truth I had seen little of Richard over the previous weeks, and on brief encounters, he had seemed removed, unfocused, and uncomfortable. He did not want to be around me, and he was hiding his emotions.   
  
"The gardens were so fine and so charming, I could hardly neglect them." He lied. I saw it on his face, though said nothing in the way of calling him out.   
  
"No, but you must not neglect your stomach either." Gruuthuse interjected, falling silent as he saw Dickon scowl. Richard does not often take poorly to a man, but perhaps it was the pressure weighing down on him, else the pain I knew caused by his back, or the worry he felt for lady Anne, but whilst we were in a Burgundy, Dickon had precious little patience for Gruuthuse. Though the man did not seem to care.  
  
"He is right Dickon."  
  
"You eat enough to please the both of us Ned." The room fell momentarily silent before I laughed, then there was the sound of false laughter that followed. False laughter that rang dead as Dickon continued. "It was I who then caught the messenger."  
  
"Messenger?" My tone was suddenly severe. The room again fell silent.   
  
"For you. I did not think it my business to open-" he had not finished as I snapped the parchment out of his hand, breaking the seal I looked at the words.  
  
 _My Lord and Husband._ _  
  
_ _My darling Ned._ _  
  
_ _I wish you to know that we are all well in sanctuary. The princesses miss the comforts of the palace, but take peace in the fact they are home at Westminster whilst you are so far away. Bess has found a new streak of piety, an Abbey is a great place to be she says, for daily she can be close to God and pray for her father the kings safe return. That is not why I write to you however. I have safely given birth to a son. He is small, though mother thinks he will be strong, like his father. I wish you success, and a return soon. Not only I need you now, but our son._ _  
  
_ _Elizabeth._  
  
Will was by my side when my focus returned to the room. "I have a son." It took a moment for joy to fill me as it should have. Longer for it to fill my voice. When it did however it was well received. Directed to a passing servant. "You." He stopped, eyes fixed on me. "Fetch wine, and drink plenty. Eat too, until you cannot eat more. I have an heir." My attention returned to our host as his servant too merrily followed my order. "I shall repay you aplenty when I am returned to my throne. I will not forget the role you played in this succession. Nor I shall ensure will my son." It was then I turned to Richard. "Dickon, a word."  
  
He did not pause as he followed me from the hall, closing the door behind him as we found perhaps the smallest room I had ever seen. "Ned?" He whispered.  
  
"John Neville wrote to you whilst I was at Middleham."I felt him stiffen.  
  
"You would have me willingly hand over my personal matters?"  
  
"If you do not, I will be forced to order you Richard, and do not make me do that."  
  
"He said you were a raving lunatic."  
  
"He said that to my face." I half laughed, then recalled. Recalled how bitter our once fond relationship had become. Recalled how Johnny had turned from me. "What else did he say?"  
  
"You know."  
  
"Lady Anne?" He nodded. "She defended her father, she was scared Dickon cause she knew it was wrong. She knew and could not tell me."  
  
"Anne is not scared of her father." I shrugged.  
  
"I would not be so sure Richard. She could not be trusted though I learnt. You said you love her-"  
  
"I maintain that I love you more. Can we leave this there? I do not wish to talk of her." I nodded. He was turning, about to leave when he sopped. "Ned, Johnny said one more thing." He continued over the silence. "He said you slapped Francis so hard they feared his neck broken. Is that true?"  When I said nothing he pressed on. "So that bruise, that was you?"  
  
"He was so insolent, he would not answer my questions-"  
  
"You have never had to defend yourself to me Edward. Defend this however. That perhaps the reason that Francis Lovell is scared of you is not to do with Warwick. It's because of the damage he knows you can inflict."

 

I admit my first emotion was incredulous annoyance and I snarled at Dickon, in a way I should not have done: “And what exactly do you mean by that? Your fine friend was frightened before I so much as laid eyes on him. And who are you to decide who I may punish for being insolent? He refused to answer questions I asked him, questions about his own predicament in our cousins care no less!”

 

“And that would have justified killing him?” Richard`s voice interrupted me. He was calm, calmer certainly than I, but there was something about his voice that made me fall silent, and as I looked at him, looked into his eyes, I was suddenly very glad this this was the brother I had on my side. That he had not chosen to support our cousin. He was small and thin, but looking at him with his flashing eyes, I realised he would be a most uncomfortable enemy to have.

 

Richard pressed his advantage, my silence, mercilessly. “I know you asked him. As you asked me. Pressured him into lying to you, saying our cousin did mistreat him. And when he wouldn`t, you, who John said were so concerned about Francis, nearly killed him. Because he didn`t confirm your suspicions. Is that what it was?”

 

“I -” I hadn`t thought my voice could ever fail me, much less in front of my brother whom I still remembered walking around in his napkins, but it did now.

 

For a moment, I could only look at him, before I came back to my senses, could answer to the outrageous accusations he had thrown at my head. “And did you not just say, loyal brother of mine, that I never did have to justify myself to you, as if you even had the right to decide this?”

 

“Did you not swear at your coronation to be a good lord to all your loyal subjects and not kill them for sassing you? God`s eyes, Ned, our mother did have us caned when we were insolent. So did cousin Warwick. It hurt and we deserved it. None of them ever did try to have us killed. I just asked you if that was what happened, and you didn`t deny it, you justified it.” His voice was still not loud, but very angry, and seeing his flushed cheeks, I was suddenly overcome with remorse.

 

I looked for words of defence but there were none. He was entirely right. Our father did have us caned for insolence, but never had any punishment ever been dangerous. Never had it been anything but what we deserved. I had never been frightened as Lovell had been of me. I had seen the terror in his eyes when John had steadied him, which I had thought ridiculous, and it seemed to make sense. I had knocked him unconscious, had for a moment really thought myself his neck snapped by the force of my blow. It had not been intentional, but what did it matter? Our mother had ever taught us to act responsible. If she ever learned of what had happened …

 

“I am sorry”, I murmured after a while, rather overcome as I realised what I had done, because Lovell would not rat out cousin Warwick to me. "I am really sorry, Dickon. It was more than he deserved for his insolence, and I should not have reacted thus.“

 

Dickon did not answer for a while, and his voice was only marginally more friendly when he said: "You need to apologise to Francis. It is not for me to forgive.” Again, I was struck almost speechless. He was right, of course. It were not his words that chilled me. It was the tone. The tone that told me that if it was for him to forgive, he never would.

 

“Dickon …” I began, my tone a mixture between contrite and warning, reflecting my mood, and he shook his head.

 

“Given what John has done ..” Dickon swallowed, went on: “I thought you`d tell me he lied. I hoped he lied.” He inclined his head. “You could have told me he lied, I would have believed you. I am thankful you did not. And now I will never speak of it again.” It was not for him, naturally, to dismiss a subject, but I did not rebuke him. I was too busy; he had given me plenty to think about. And though now, about to give an account to our Lord and Saviour, I do regret it, the boy Lovell was not among it.

 


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Believe, when you lie  
> You will never need to recognize yourself  
> To deceive  
> To remove all chance of doubt and be received  
> With your lie  
> The deception is complete when you concede  
> And decide  
> To reject your lives, sacrificed to me  
> Penance can't absolve your sin  
> All your belief  
> Cannot absolve your sin  
> Believe, when you lie  
> You will never need to recognize the source  
> Of deceit  
> To renew your faith in God  
> You must believe, in your lie  
> The redemption is complete when you conceive  
> And decline  
> To release your lives  
> Sacrificed to me  
> Penance can't absolve your sin All your belief  
> Cannot absolve your sin  
> Reap your life, like you want to  
> recognize, all you've come to  
> Reap your life  
> Veiled in shadow  
> Recognize  
> Faces of the crucified  
> I can hear their screams tonight  
> Ever haunting me  
> Burn your lie into me  
> Penance can't absolve your sin  
> All your belief  
> Cannot absolve your sin"

**December 31st 1470.**

**Burgundy.**

 

It had been only a day over a decade since my father's death. An event which still brought pain to my heart. I had learnt since that December brought little good. I did not expect that this negotiation would be different. I did not think it would be so short lived. 

We rode into the palace grounds, Richard to my right, Hastings to my left. As Dickon sat into his saddle, preparing to dismount as his horse stilled, I looked at him and our eyes met. “Dickon, you do not have to-”

  
“What makes you think this is a chore? Do I not have a right? If Lord Hastings has a right, then I-”  
  
“You have made your point Richard.” Hastings spoke clearly. “Ned?” He jumped from his saddle, holding my reins as I followed suit. Dickon was in moments by our side as we began to climb the palace stairs, greeted by servants of the household.  
  
We had hardly time to utter a word when the familiar voice pricked my ears. “They are here to see me, Estienne.” Margaret made her way out of the doors. She did not hesitate to pull me into a strong embrace. “Ned, and.” She released me, looking to Richard. “Dickon.” Her arms pulled him in, I saw him blush as though she were our mother trying to gain such affection. “And when I say I am pleased to see you William Hastings, then it is true to say I never thought I would see this situation.”  
  
“It is a pleasure to see you too my lady, as it ever has been.” Will was polite, I did not hear the rest of their words, my intention instead diverted to the man who stood just inside the building. The man who looked at me, not saying a word, indicating nothing. Nothing until I approached.  
  
“Edward Plantagenet. If I ever hear your name again, it will be too soon.”  
  
“Charles-” He held up a hand to silence me.  
  
“You have been a thorn in my side.”

 

“Charles, you have met my brother.” Meg interrupted, Will and Dickon behind her.  
  
“Indeed.” Charles looked between Will and I. “Shall we?” He pointed a hand toward the end of the corridor, I began to walk, Will flanking me until Charles gripped his arm. “My meet is with-”  
  
“This is William Hastings.” I said, without looking. “He is my chamberlain, and where I go, Chareles, he goes.”  
  
“You stipulate terms for this negotiation?” Charles's eye brows rose, though he submitted. Submitted until Dickon began to follow. “No. You will stay out.” I saw Dickon's expression, saw the irritation in his eyes, saw Meg join him. “This is for the adults to discuss.”  
  
Dickon looked to me for support, support I saw he was dissatisfied he did not get as I shrugged. “What am I supposed to do?” He spoke more quietly than I believe he wanted.

  
“Find a dog to entertain yourself with or something.” Charles barked as he led the way through the doors.  

***

Once the doors were closed, Charles offered Will a look I had only seen once before. The look of suspicion and hatred Edmund had only once offered me. "You bring your pup everywhere?"   
  
There was a heavy silence for a moment. "I wouldn't want your hand to slip over my wine Charles." My tone indicated humour, his did not.  
  
"Who said I spoke to you?"   
  
He laughed as I forced myself, taking up the chair he pointed to. "I have been made to wait too long for this meeting Charles." My tone was suddenly serious, though he took nothing of it.   
  
"No, you have not been made to wait long enough. If your sister was not so persuasive you would be waiting still, and if your sister was not wife, you would not be in Burgundy at all. Remember as much whilst you are here, Edward Plantagenet, that you are now my subject and under my command."  
  
"The last time I was a subject." I murmured. "It was not long lived-"  
  
"What my master means." Will interrupted. "Is that we are most grateful for your seeing us your grace." He shot me a glance as he heard me inhale, ready to speak, a look which said I must not.   
  
"Shall we?" Charles sounded irritated, though he clicked his fingers for the documents held by one of his courtiers. "You wish what from me? To bleed me dry of everything? Including my reputation?"   
  
"I wish to leave Burgundy, not bleed it dry." When Charles said nothing, only read the papers, I could not control my tongue. "What reputation do you refer to?"  
  
"One better than yours. Though I must say I was pleased you did not take your pleasure with half the women of Burgundy." He smirked. "On a severe note, peace is hard won, and it is threat to peace and to my people which makes me agree that you must leave. Yet Margaret has the strength of a lion and the heart of an angel. She would not have me drown you in the sea, nor send you to England or France to your death. Though I have been offered wealth for it. Do you know how many people are baying for your blood?" I shrugged. "When the earl of Warwick wrote to me offering a small fortune for you? I will say I was tempted. Yet I would as well hand you to Louis, and I would rather have you as a thorn in my side than that man." He growled at the mention of Louis of France.   
  
"So you will help?"  
  
"I did not say that. I will not sign a thing until I know what it is. What do you demand of me?"  
  
"Request." Will corrected.   
  
"Please." Charles looked up, eyes bright with humour, though hard with authority. "This man has never requested a single thing in his life, else he has not been told he may not have it if he has."   
  
"Forty ships."   
  
"Five."  
  
"Forty Five"   
  
"One."  
  
"Fifty."  
  
"Seven."  
  
"Fifteen, and a vow to repay."   
  
"Fiften." Charles agreed.  
  
"We need men too."   
  
"Money also no doubt."   
  
"10,000 men."  
  
"1000."  
  
"5000."   
  
"2000. Not all will be skilled."  
  
"As long as they are armed."  
  
"So you want arms?"   
  
"A loan until I take back my country." 

  
"If you take it back, and if you do not? Have you prepared for that?"

"No. I have not sir." 

"Your arrogance astounds me." He muttered. "Yet I cannot help but admire it. A loan of 20,000, plus arms." I nodded. "And Edward, if you do not win, you must know, I will not rest until I have taken every penny back from the hands of those you leave behind. I will bleed your coffers dry for the pain you've caused me, and if you-"

"When I." 

" _If_  you take back your country, I will expect trade negotiations to begin, and France to be removed from them." 

"Burgundy will be our soul trading partner?" He saw the skepticism, laughed. 

"No, but you will not get in the way of these negotiations.I would assume that if you did you had forgotten that I aided you and that... Would simply not do." 

When we left that room an hour later it was with an agreement at hand. Dickon greeted us in the grounds, Meg beside him. "Meg." She blushed as I pulled her into a firm embrace, kissing her cheek in a gesture perhaps too familiar for how distant we had grown. Though she did not push me back. "We have not had chance for a proper hello, but business-"

"I understand Ned, I am not a child." She jokingly scolded. "Next you will tell me I am a girl and that is the way of it!" She saw Dickons eyebrow raise. "I have not told you of that have I Dickon?" 

"Meg-"

"I remember a thirteen year old boy at Ludlow-"

"Meg." I scolded. 

"He does not want you to know for ma mere would still be cross now!" She whooped with laughter. "Did he tell you Dickon he wasn't an angel? Did he tell you after all those times he scolded you that he too used to slip the grips of old nursey?" 

"Meg, enough-"

"He did not." Dickon said dryly. "Did you ever give attitude? Were you ever slapped about the face?"

"Dickon." My voice was suddenly weary. He held up his hands in defeat, stepping off into the gardens leaving Meg and I alone. 

"He is hurting Edward

, he-

" 

"Meg, we have such little time together, need we discuss this?"

"He is worried about you, Ned. He loves you.  Give him that, see his loyalty and know he cannot see harm come to you. So when he sees you are causing your own destruction?"

I did not know until it was too late how right they both were. How much indeed I was writing my own destruction. 

"You are beautiful Meg." She smiled as I changed the conversation."Am I to expect to be an uncle by my favourite sister-"

"Ned!" She slapped my arm. "How could you? Eliza and Anne, they're your sisters too!" 

"And? Dickon

s my favourite brother though I have George." 

"You are despicable." 

"Is that not what is so loveable about me?" She laughed. 

"In truth I do not know what is to love about you. Yet I cannot find it in my heart to do aught else. I trust my husband has agreed to help you?"

"And how many night of your threats and tantrums did it take?"

"Weeks, and they are plots, not tantrums." 

"You are like mother. Divisive through and through."

"And I do not see that has harmed you. I rather think you've profited from scheming women." I had been about to walk away when her hand rested on my arm. "Ned, tell me, how are you? Richard has voiced his concerns, but I wish to hear it from you, it has been ten years since... Since Edmund and papa-"

 

"They are at the back of my mind Meg, they have to be."

I saw that she was not convinced, but in part that statement was true, but I could not help but think the same would come to me. As soon as Charles had granted those resources, I had felt the weight upon my shoulders. I had suddenly realised that this would be a fight to the death between myself and Warwick... 


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "HEAR ME!!  
> Remember all the times you bent our truth and crossed our lines?  
> All things considered, it was just our normal way of life  
> But somewhere in the middle, we got caught and dragged away  
> So my tribunal brings us here so I can fall today
> 
> All - you want is soulless  
> All - you got to break us  
> All - I have to do is  
> Stop - your f***ing nonsense
> 
> I CAN'T BETRAY!  
> I CAN'T BETRAY - MYSELF!
> 
> I stand before you as a victim, as the system rots  
> I couldn't focus, so I staggered when I heard the shots  
> There are no labels and no rehabilitation here  
> You are surrounded by the very f***ing thoughts you fear
> 
> All - you want is soulless  
> All - you got to break us  
> HEAR ME!!!
> 
> All - I have to do is  
> Stop - your f***ing nonsense
> 
> I CAN'T BETRAY!  
> I CAN'T BETRAY - MYSELF!
> 
> I watch the hope I had disintegrate before my eyes  
> I take a minute and reflect on all your f***ing lies  
> Behind the door, you have two choices, but you don't get to choose  
> You can survive or you can die - either way you lose"

March 11th 1471

 

Several months of preparation passed before we could set sail. Even when we were ready, boarded upon the Antony, the ship of Gruthusse's father in law, we could  not leave dock for the cursed winds. I did not realise then how fortunate we were, indeedd I did not know that Margeruite and her son. I did not anticipate that we would be so fortunate as to see them delayed in their departure from their safe hole in France.

 

Tensions on board the ship had for several days been rising. Even relationships between Will and I had grown strained. Richard it did seem was hardest hit. Never before had I seen him lose himself so much as to be so free with the wine that he stumbled not from the waves but from intoxication. So much had it become a problem that as we left the dock, I had seen Richard on the deck, watching the waves, his skin unusually pale. "Been drinking again have we, brother mine?" He looked at me, though he said nothing as he returned his gaze to the waves. "You will turn into George if you do not have care-"

"Do I hear your disapproval Ned? Should I much care?" 

"Dickon, I did not mean it so-"

"You have the balls to compare me to George, you mean George who has stood by you through all of this? George who did not sell out his family for profit? George who abandoned all he loved, all he knew and treasured for his brother? George who obeyed every order, to the damned letter? I am nothing like George." He cooled his temper quickly, hurt replaced his angry expression. "I am offended you would compare me to him so foolishly."

"I wished to see if you are well Richard, I have seen little of you for days, and have heard much. All I have seen of you has confirmed it. You have been blind drunk, and when you have not you have been skulking in your cabin wallowing in self pity."

"I suppose you heard that from Anthony? The learned scholar-"

"Christ's bones Richard! What is wrong? Is it the Lady Anne and her marriage to-"

"No. Why must it be a woman..." He trailed off, half laughing as he spoke next. "I forget who I talk to. Of course it must be a woman, there is little more to life than women for you is there."

"You tread perilously close to testing my patience Richard. I will not be questioned, demeaned by you-"

"So slap me? Am I just an insolent child to you?" His bellow brought unwanted attention to us. Crew stared, even Will had made his way to the deck, staring in wide eyed disbelief, waiting for my reaction. 

"Richard." I whispered. "Think what you are doing."

"I know what I am doing. I am questioning you-" He was not allowed to finish, not in part because Will grabbed his arm as he had cleared the space between us, dragging Richard toward my cabin with an indication I should follow. 

"You are a royal duke might I remind you." Will snapped as soon as the door shut behind me. "You should damned well act like one. You have an influence boy." He looked to me then. "As for you. You are King, and his senior. You should not have encouraged it-"

"Encouraged it?" I muttered, seeing Will fall silent as he looked at me. I saw the look on his face, the look that said he knew what would happen. The look that said William Hastings knows me well enough to see my anger, to see what could happen before it does. "He did not need encouragement." I spat. "Richard you expect that I will treat you not only as an adult, but as an equal, but what right do you have to demand thus? You behave like a child, your behaviour here and in Burgundy has been shameful, and embarrassing." I saw his face redden, though he said nothing. "If you were my son-"

"But I am not, mercifully, and I pity that boy-"

Richard did not have a second to pause, nor did Will have a moment to grab me as my hands secured Richard's shoulders, forcing him against the walls with a thud. "Do not." 

"Ned!" Will shouted, approaching. "Put him down or I will make you." 

 

I obeyed, seeing Richard pant. "You behave like a child and you are not one." I justified, my voice level.

 

"Yes? Mayhap that's true." He sounded as though he had surrendered, though his eyes burned in drunken fury. "Except I reject that explanation. I reject it. You have ever treated me like a child. You do not think me a man and do not degrade us both enough to lie to me. I exist and that offends you. You cannot think of me as an adult, like you could not think of Edmund as a man-"

"Richard." I pleaded. 

 

"Francis." Richard murmured. "Francis, he was a child so you struck him for behaving like one. Ned tell me, is behaving like a child doing what you do not wish them to do? You yourself I see have no reluctance to drink a barrel dry, and so acting from my influencers, why should I?"

"At a time like this Richard, you need your wits about you, and I have done this long enough to know that-"

"I forget that, yes, I am just a child-"

"Enough." Will interrupted. 

"It is not!" Richard stumbled as he shouted, stepping toward me. 

"Yes it is." I said. "Lets put-"

"Put an end to it, and you say I am the child, avoiding this-"

"I say you are blind drunk." Will caught Richard as he almost fell. 

"Tell me Ned, much like George, does my existence annoy you? I heard how you treated him at Middleham, and how you treated Francis and Anne, sweet Anne. I am surprised more were not hurt by you-" I could not stop it. Could not control my fist as it clenched, nor my arm as it struck. Struck the target I had not intended to hit as Will ducked Richard's head away from the punch. 

This time it was I who caught Richard as he stumbled, free from Will's grasp. Free as Will rose a hand to his nose, bringing it back with a line of blood. He did not say a word, did not even look at me as he left me alone with my brother. 

 

 "Dickon." I soothed, though my heart raced as I walked him to the bed. "There is naught wrong with feeling pain, nor acknowledging it. There is nothing wrong with how you feel. Anne Neville has married the Lancaster brat, and it is my fault, and I know you think that. I know it angers you. I know that is why you drink now, but you must not." I felt him tense as I wrestled him onto the bed, before pulling the sheets over him. "You must sleep. Tomorrow we will reach England. Tomorrow, we must have this free from our mind."

Whatever I said in those words, however much Dickon heeded them. I could not keep free from my mind that I had inflicted such on Will. On Will who has never spoken a word of it to me, has never held it against me.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So let the war begin  
> You're far from innocent  
> Hell I just don't know where it will end  
> You are the one to blame  
> You made a habit of  
> F***ing up my life (ow!)
> 
> Another fallacy  
> Is laid in front of me  
> Now I just don't know  
> What to believe  
> Another animal  
> Sent to devour what-  
> Ever's left inside
> 
> I know now!  
> It's all been a lie  
> And I'll never come to know why  
> Awoke to discover  
> You leaving me now  
> It's all been a lie  
> I don't ever want to know why  
> You've mastered the art of  
> Deceiving me now."

We did not have time to dwell on petty arguments, a tense journey brought Dickon and I closer. When we landed in Norfolk, only to find it under the control of the Earl of Oxford who had eagerly anticipated our arrival, raising men against us, and my scouts, Sir Robert Chamberlain and Sir Gilbert Debenham confirmed to Will before we so much as set foot on English soil that we must raise anchor and away. It was Richard then who calmly suggested Yorkshire, a suggestion I found myself reluctant to accept, though agreed. Our journey north was a hard push which sent us to Ravenspur.  
  
"You know." Will mused, a hint of irony in his voice as we readied to discuss further options due to many rebellions in the north. "The irony is undeniable."  
  
"Irony?" Anthony asked, his tone bored.  
  
"This is where Henry IV landed when he wished to depose Richard. This will become known as the port for deposing a king."  
  
"How glad I am you brought such frivolities to our attention at such a time." I muttered.  
  
"Then allow me to make a more fruitful suggestion?"  
  
"I will it that you would."  
  
"We aim for Lincolnshire."  
  
"More time at sea?" Dickon looked up from whatever on the floor had held his attention.  
  
"Not as such, we cross the Humber."  
  
"To what avail? Half of England is in arms against us and we can be damned sure we are not diverting around Scotland to find support."  
  
"Ned listen." Will's voice was level, calm. "It will take us to the heart of England, and the route south will be shorter-"  
  
"We will gather less people to our banners." Anthony offered dryly.  
  
"I can be sure we have support in Lincolnshire, and Leicestershire. I would not say it were it not true."  
  
"We can get support in Yorkshire." Richard replied. "Ned we will not find a place we are not endangered. So I am begging we get off now. If we do not act soon, that will give Warwick more chance to arm himself together. You are not so slow as to think he does not already know. He will be preparing Ned, if we do not set foot in England now, we may as well return to Burgundy else put our own heads on the block and save him the satisfaction. That is the worst case, the best if we sail again is we will look like cowards, like we have fled. Ned you cannot afford to flee again, and if we do, you will lose the support of the commons."  
  
Richard I remember smiled as I looked at him. What I felt must have shown. I could not deny the sense of pride, the bite of guilt, the feeling that said that for all I had accused Richard of being a child, he was more than just a man. He was a logical, intelligent man, and what he lacked in practical experience, he made up for in cunning and knowledge. I had liked to think until then that it was I who knew Dick of Warwick better than any man alive, but in truth, short of only John and Warwick himself, it was Richard who knew Warwick. It was Richard whose thoughts also mimicked my own.  
  
"Ned I-" Will tried though fell silent as I shook my head.  
  
"Dickon is right, our only chance is to leave now. If you wish Will, you have my blessing to go forth to Lincolnshire and Leistershire, Northamptoonshire if you wish, raise troops and return. I shall keep messengers on your road should you wish-"  
  
"No." Will's voice had the edge toward snappy. "I will not leave you, not when this may be so short lived." There was a moment, as we looked at each other where I saw that Will believed we had already signed our own death warrant. Signed my own, and that was breaking his heart. That was why he looked away.  
  
"You have your army Will?" He nodded. "Then you should raise it, does that not mean embarking on your own journey to Leicester?"  
  
"I will write for Kate to send out the call to arms."  
  
"Can Kate be trusted with such a task?"  
  
"A woman has done such before." Will offered. "Your mother when you were ten, the she wolf too often-"  
  
"That was not what I meant. She is Warwick's sister and a Neville."  
  
"Your mother is a Neville and Warwick's aunt. Kate is loyal to you, though she loves her brother, if I send word she should gather men? She will do so."  
  
"Then we head in land." Richard said, matter of factly.  
  
"Toward York."

 

***

 

I do not doubt there was scepticism, how I would achieve my goal. How we would make it to York alive and with an army of men. However, as we reached Martin de la See, he who held forces against our royal command in Inverness, with letters from Percy in Northumberland, our mission passed. Word had spread at my command, through the secret channels at our disposal that I did not wish to claim back a throne. I wished only to claim back my duchy. This was to most a sign of my surrender. I do not know if Warwick heard of my intentions, and if he believed them. I do not know what his reactions were, though I can vividly imagine him now, storming through his stronghold at Coventry, rampaging as he lost his so normal controlled temper. I do not doubt that his intention was to let me take back my duchy, for he did not send resistance through York as he so easily could have. Though I am certain that he did not wish to let me keep my life. No matter, our road to York was a long one, with minimal resistance, though minimal support. We were approaching York, our men tired and weary from their journey. Supplies were running short, with no funds or resources to replenish them. I had known we had to get to York, and should we fail in that, we would fail at our endeavour.   
  
We had set camp on the roads edge when the messenger came, a messenger ushered in by a ragged soldier. "My lord." the messenger greeted me. " I come from Thomas Conyers of York."  
  
"He's the reader-"  
  
"I know who is, what says he?"  
  
"He says you are to divert your course, and your army away from York my lord, for you will not be permitted safe entry. Nor will the gates be opened for you, you shall not find sanctuary in its walls."   
  
I did not speak, only pushed him out of the tent with a guiding hand. "Ned." Dickon muttered, by my side as we watched the messenger retreat at a run. "What are we to do?"  
  
"Tomorrow we advance on York." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is based on the accounts of what happened in this awkward period as explained by several books. I associated the choice to cross to Lincolnshire to have been instigated by William Hastings, for the logical reason that, well, he had an army at his disposal, and with his bases being in both Leicestershire and Northamptonshire, it would make sense that it was William Hastings who suggested this. Though equally, it is not impossible that it could have been any of them (though unlikely to have been Edward), especially Anthony Woodville.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I get so weary on this troubled road.  
> Unlock these chains and gently rock me home.  
> Be on the clouds and the rain.
> 
> Where lies cant hurt me  
> The flesh desert me  
> No in or out  
> No loss or doubt  
> No living with or doing without.  
> Where money ain't the power king and kindness is the most precious thing.
> 
> Where angels sing...
> 
> Where time means nothing  
> No hustle  
> No one rushing  
> No dark or light  
> No hate or spite  
> No wrong or right  
> No day or night  
> No towns  
> No cities  
> No pain  
> No pity  
> Where hunger is no longer  
> And a good man just gets stronger"

Towton is a memory I have ever wanted to forget. An event which left scars both physical and emotional. An event which was so close to losing me the throne it had claimed me. York was the beginning of a nerve wracking journey as we rode to the city walls, our situation had become apparent. As the grey walls shadowed us, we came to a halt by Monks Bar, the commotion was audible at the walls top, yet several minutes passed before the small gate opened, barring our entrance whilst allowing out the Mayor and Sheriff. "My lords." The mayor greeted, a familiar face now aged by the presence of a beard he neither suited nor seemed to like. His hard eyes looked at our army, before returning to me. "Were you not informed that you would not be permitted entrance?" The stocky and grossly plump man declared.  
  
"Were you not told I would pursue it?"  
  
"I was not. Your trip has been wasted, I cannot have a man who claims he is this country's second king within the walls of my city. That is treason-"  
  
"I do not wish to be king. I am not here to claim a crown but my birthright." I saw his scepticism. "Where best to begin my journey to reclaim my duchy of York than this, my ducal city." I saw his glance to the Sheriff, saw his surprise, though I did not let him speak. "Her Grace Queen Margaruite left in her wake piles of ashes, and towns which had been robbed and their citizens raped and murdered by her army, all she did to oppose me." I sounded repentant. As I looked to Will and Dickon on my left I saw their scepticism, saw that even they were not aware of the deceit behind my words. Anthony I saw to be angered.  "I will not bring that to York. To prove that is my intention I beg you, good sirs, let me and my men, those of your choosing, of a number of your choosing enter this city so we may pray and rest and the rest, they shall make camp on the road."  
  
It was several minutes whilst they talked before, with obvious reluctance, the order came for the gates to open. "Twenty men." That was the instruction. Will and Dickon were beside me as we passed through the gates, stopping only as we heard Anthony's protest. "I-"  
  
"Not him." The Sheriff shouted to me. "He stays with your army."  
  
"Ned-" I shook my head in response to Anthony's protest.  
  
"You can control this bunch! Have faith! Hobbes! Come now." William Hobbes had, by fate of being my surgeon, been beside me through Burgundy, had fled the battle by my side and now, now was ready to act should battle or rebellion commence. A rebellion I could not be sure would not. Not as I passed into the city, with only the smallest scattering of attendants, with Will and Dickon the only trained men at my side. Nor as the commons looked at me with a hatred bordering despise. A chilling experience. I can count on one hand how many times I have felt truly frightened, not scared of a minor skirmish, nor worried for an outcome, but with the feeling of impending dread for myself. With the crippling feeling that indeed, this might be where I die. Beside me I felt Richard stop, his eyes taking in those who stared from their windows or upon the street, stared with murder written in their eyes. "Ned I..." He whispered, he did not say a word of his nerves, though I felt him move closer to me, felt his right hand upon the hilt of his sword, whilst the left sat visibly on his dagger.  
  
"At ease Dickon. Do not provoke them. They have cause to hate me."  
  
"You are.." He was about to say King, though he stopped suddenly, coughing to mask his correction. "You are duke of York. Damn it they should not look at you so. You are their protector-"  
  
"And was so when their lives were torn apart in Saxton. They blame me for that. It was for my ambition they died don't you know?"  
  
"No, I do not acknowledgethat." He whispered almost inaudible. "It was to remove a reign of tyranny-"  
  
"Tyranny which did not hurt the good people of York until Towton. They did not see Ludlow Dickon. I doubt they have heard the word Ludlow, must less know where it is."  
  
He shrugged. From there we walked in silence until we reached the minster. A long and tense walk led by the Sheriff, when he turned to us, his expression matched the hatred of the entire city combined. "You should seek sanctuary here for one night only. Make your claim to your duchy as you must, but if you are not away by noon tomorrow, I shall have you dragged from this church. Do you hear me? You will not find alternative shelter with the citizens, I assure you."  
  
***

 

Seek sanctuary we did, and it was during this time I saw Richards true emotions. A display growing so rare it would become alien. I had been upon my knees for half an hour with Richard at my side. Prayer after prayer, request after request, promise after promise each mouthed in silence. Having driven a hard bargain with our saviour till my knees ached, I had rose to my feet only to see Dickon staring in silent observation, his weathered rosary suddenly falling victim to his anxious pulling and clawing, for a moment I worried it might snap, with it too would Richards nerves. "I doubt I have ever seen you so pious brother." I blinked at his statement, if only because of his unmasked bemusement. He muttered. "For what did you pray?" When he received my silence he nodded, suddenly repentant. Though he did not see that it was not for irritation I did not answer, but for the fact I was not so sure I even knew. "Forgive me, that is private."

"For my sons, and my daughters, my wife, you, Will, my soul." I sighed, it all coming too neatly together. "For the souls of our enemies too."

"For Dick?"

"And Johnny."

"And George." Dickon added.

"No. I prayed not for George's soul, but instead that he might see sense. Instead that he might ride with us and he will be pardoned."

"That is more than he deserves." Will offered, stepping away as he saw my glare.

I did not have time to respond. No sooner had I spun to look at him than my attention was drawn away from my friend, and to the frightened face peering from the furthest pew. The child had been silent, so silent and still indeed, so ghostly that I thought for sure I had imagined. More so because, as the sun shone brightly on his head, burning his hair a bright copper, he reminded me so much of Edmund. For a moment I could do nothing but picture the Norman chapel at the castle, the rose coloured stone, the scent of rushes and polished wood, beeswax, smoke, incense, and I felt the familiar ache in my feet from the running, the sore palms from falling, or a caning because we had made our way to the kitchens only to steal some sugared treats... I could hear his voice, could feel the adrenaline.

I swear I must have looked akin to a ghost. Whatever snapped me out of it I do not know, but I had set off to the back of the great church by the time my company had seen the child. By the time they cared to join me, I was knelt beside the pew. "Hello." The child spoke to me in the boldness only a child could muster before I had chance to utter a word.

"Are you lost?" My tone was light, lighter even than my own children have known me capable to muster.

"No, are you lost?" He retorted.

"No. Do your parents know you're here?"

"No. Do yours?"

"No, I suppose they do not." I did not manage another word before in another act of boldness I doubt he would have found if he had been grown, he shuffled toward me, pulling the hat from my head.

"I like this." He stroked the velvet. He tried to snatch it back as I took it from his hand, placing it on his head,though it dipped down over his face. Beneath it I heard him laugh, altering it with one tiny hand. "Your head is big."

"Or yours is small."I shrugged, standing up.

"You're big! Even taller than my father!" He stood up, reaching little higher than my knee as he came up to me. Each step sending my hat further over his face, until he pushed it back onto his head.

"I am taller too than my father was. Is your papa a tall fellow?"

"As tall a man as I have ever known! Except now I know you!"

"Ha, yes you do, little sir. What is your name?"

"Peter. Peter Baker. What's yours?"

"Edward, Edward Plantagenet. So Peter Baker-"

"Yes Edward Plantagenet." He grinned as I smiled.

"Is your father a baker then?" I smirked, he giggled, shaking his head. 

"No he's a blacksmith. You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm interested." I shrugged.

"Why do you have a sword?" He demanded. 

"Why do you ask so many questions?" It was Richard who spoke.

"I'm interested." Baker replied.

"Well you shouldn't be." Richard uttered, stepping forward to grab the boys arm, I did not have chance to voice a word before the child gripped my leg. "You should be at home with-" His tone was lighter, gentle as he tried to soothe the boy away with little success. My brother's face was quizzical as he looked at me, looking for my assistance with backing the child away from me. 

"And who are you to tell me?" Peter snapped.

"Swine." Will muttered, though he did not step toward the boy, if only because Richard shot him a look. 

 

"Peter-" Richard began, edging toward the child slowly. 

"Peter!" The man's voice cut through the air. "You're here y'little brat! I'll hide y'arse for the trouble y'cause me." The man did not seem to notice the leg to which his son held, nor did he care as the boy tightened his grip, burying his face in the too big hat. "What is tat on y'head? Where did y'head tha-" he stopped in his tracks as his eyes met mine. They flashed for a moment with recognition before his voice contradicted his thoughts. "Who on God's green earth are you then?"

"Sir I'm-"

"This father is Edward Plantagenet, he-"

"I know who he is boy!" The Smith did not hesitate then to clear the distance left between his son, ragging the boy from me, tossing the cap back to me. "You." He growled  to the child. "Outside, and I'll bash your skull later." He glared at me then. "I'd spit if we were not in the Lord's house."

"You threatened an innocent boy in the Lord's house." Richard offered. "For no more than being in the Lord's house."

"An' who the bloody hell are you?"

"Step outside." Will offered. "We will sort this-"

"Get your hand off me!" The Smith snapped, pushing Will back with force. "You dare to show your face in these parts again." I knew he spoke to me, though I did not grant him a single glance. "You tore this country apart some ten years ago, and we here were worst affected, all for peace you called it, but what peace was there? One war after another, and all to line your purse. Men died because of you, yet you dare seek sanctuary in this church? Lord Warwick too was your ally, but at least he did not tax the men he did not kill, not giving leniency to those who were injured for him-"

"I fought so you might have your freedom, you wanted peace and complain for none of it, yet I do not see you speak of the carnage the house of Lancaster left behind, and what peace does your son see?" My eyes fixed on the boy at the back of the church, the boy who had not moved beyond the doors. The boy who stared at me in awe.

"Queen Margaret had a cause to fight! Her husband is rightful king. You just like your father bring tyranny to England and God will Damn you to hell, you do him insult by housing yourself here."

Before I could say a word, and mercifully before Richard exploded as I saw he wished to, the doors to the back of the church opened, besides the child's mother, several people entered the building, seeing the scene before them with anxiety, many clearly having heard the smiths hard words, expecting, fearing a harsher reaction from me. It all happened within a matter of seconds, moments as Richard now pulled the beads in his hand so hard I heard the wood crack, that was until the wooden screen at the church's front snapped open with a crack, and with the setting sun cast a beam over the image of St Anne.

A spectacle of such beauty for moments no one spoke. That was until Peter Baker opened his mouth. "God likes this man." The child muttered, catching my attention. "He has God's blessing." If ever there had been a mother who was proud, this boys mother was the woman to watch. Her hand pulled him to her, she kneeled, kissing his forehead. 

"Don't humour the boy Mary!" The boys fathers snapped. "He is not a Yorkist, we are not Yorkists-"

"You are whatever your king demands you be." I whispered only to the man, suddenly short of patience. 

  
"King Henry is King-"

"Henry is a fool, he is no more suitable to be a king than is your boot." Our voices grew louder, enough only that Will tells me they could hear hushed whispers. "Now if you wish to have prosperity when I retake the throne you will drop your pathetic pretence. Please, I can bring you peace and fortune, or I can bring you disaster." I saw his expression change, to which I sighed, my voice raised. "Madam." I approached the Baker child, seeing the boy blush as I offered him my hat. "You may keep that Peter." I looked to the lady, offering a smile. "I see madam where your son gets his looks, such beauty, such youth." She blushed scarlet. "Though I must hope he has his fathers build and skills, though not his attitude, for that will not help him in that which I will not propose."

"My lord?"

 

"I wish he be my squire." I heard Will's cough, his splutter, saw Richard step forward, saw his smile. Saw also his surprise. "I would give £30 for him, and £5 per annum hereforth for his service, until the boy reaches his majority, else it is seen suitable he be knighted, whichever occurs sooner-"

"It would be an honour without the payment my lord." She offered a curtsy, licking her sleeve she began to scrub the child's dirtless face. 

 

It is odd to think that boy is now a man, now he waits upon me, even as I lay here, more weak than I do care to admit, he helps to scribble this down where he does not help Hobbes to rearrange the cursed sheets. I do not deny the success that boy brought me. How such an act of generosity, brought only by the fortune of his presence, saw my army enter York. How it saw such harmony those two days that I had my place to state my intention, to promise peace and prosperity for York, to promise a just and fare rule, how I promised stability, stability through a lord who would take the place of Warwick.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "While my hands are tied behind my back, you save the best and put me last  
> I've given up on giving you my heart  
> I f***ing hate it, you're jaded,  
> Think about the times we faked it  
> And realize that we tore this place apart  
> But there's no reply from you  
> No matter what I do, I'll never get away from you  
> We're not finished  
> With my fingers crossed behind my back, I let your words slip through my cracks  
> This person you perceived is dead and gone  
> I f***ing' hate it, you're jaded  
> We can scream for the hell we created  
> But this time I won't let you get me wrong"

April 1483

 

Outside this chamber, servants were talking, lords and ladies were panicking. The court did not continue running, it was imploding.

 

William Hobbes stood still, he found himself unable to move. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open and his hands shook terribly, more than they ever had before. In all of his fifty something years, he had never been so speechless. He had never found himself unable to move, unable to perform his duties as he now did. The world had gone cold, the sounds of that room faded out of his concentration. Even as he saw the panic in those surrounding the huge poster bed, even as he saw what he knew to be William Hastings barking orders, orders at him, he could not move. Not until with one firm hand, a sharp tug, he was dragged back into the room, deafening screams filling his ears. “For the love of God Hobbes! Help him!” Lord Hastings snarled, pushing him toward the bed so hard he almost fell onto his patient.   
  
A patient which for once, he could not forget the significance of. He had in his life acquired an ability to do what few others could, an ability which had made him by far the most popular of the King's physicians. He had always been able to remove all majesty from his mind when treating his royal patient. A talent which had seen many daring remedies work soundly. That was until now. Now as he heard the cries of pain, now as he watched the giant in this bed, a giant now as thin as Hobbes had ever known him, roll back and forth like a tortured child... His eyes slammed closed and he gulped, steadying his hands before he reached into his bag, pulling out rags before he soaked them in wine, ringing them into a rope like string before he placed it in King Edward's mouth. “Do not struggle your grace, do not.” In truth the man had no clue what to do, how to approach this. He did not think he could save his masters life.   
  
If ever there had been a time to despair. Words could not, would not describe what he knew. He did not wish to be the one who said it, though in his mind there was no doubt. Edward would die. This was no longer if, it was when. Hobbes in truth could not say if their kings life was to be counted in hours or days. Usually so closed, usually so stiff lipped, Hobbes had never seen this man scream like a child without his mother.

 

Hobbes tried to block out the muffled cries, watched as Princess Elizabeth stroked gently her father's forehead. With still shaking hands Hobbes pulled back the coverlets, exposing the flesh of the King's stomach before resting his hand upon it, only to withdraw it quickly. He signalled then, to the man he left beside the door. “His belly is as hard as rock.” Hobbes whispered, watching as James Frise tested too, removing his hand as their king whimpered, his eyes suddenly open, suddenly aware. “He does not eat, his flesh is burning up.”  
  
“I have removed his coverlets that did not help, I have put them back. We have tried all the usual remedies, I do not know what else you expect-”  
  
“Stand witness.” Frise nodded, though he scepticism showed in his face as the older man reached into his bag, pulling out a knife before he washed it with a wine coated rag.   
  
“What are you doing?” Bess screeched, almost abandoning her post at her fathers side until he gripped her with force, shaking his head in protest.   
  
“Fear not Princess. I know what-”  
  
“No, what are you going to do? Why, Lord Hastings, you are not stopping this?” She squeaked. Lord Hastings shook his head, watching with tired eyes as the knife was pressed against his masters abdomen, before blood followed its slight trail and his masters scream was muffled by the rag Frise held in his mouth.

 

***  
  
I had never heard screams like it. Not even in battle, in chaos had I heard it. I awoke with a start, darkness filled the space around us and I was not sure for how long I had slept. Whatever, the restless sleep had felt like little more than minutes. Across the tent I heard the familiar rustle of cloaks, the sound of Will's breathing, breathing stopped for a moment as in my haste to move I walked blindly into him. “Christ!” His shout I knew woke Dickon up, as Will unsheathed his dagger, I stepped back onto one of the mutts which had made its way into shelter, startling as it yelped. It was a minute before the tent opened, light illuminating our faces as one of Will's own retainers joined us. “You oaf, you bloody fool! I could have killed you.” Will sighed, though he did not continue as his man spoke.

 

“My lords, your grace, the camp is in disarray.”   
  
We did not falter to leave our tent, Richard behind me and Will beside me as we stepped into chaos. It did not take long to find what caused the screaming. A woman lay beside a fire, a man knelt beside her whilst a child shrieked. Several horsemen were scattered around the camp, two tried to control their mounts, whilst the third had failed and had too brought this destruction. His riderless horse yards away as it galloped madly in circles, rearing at anyone who tried to near it. I only had a second to glimpse Dickon's eyes as he saw, not three yards from us, the burning tent men flocked out of, some returning to collect belongings. “Dickon, get them from that tent! The next man to go back in will be thrown back if he tries to get out. Will, calm that horse!” My eyes were fixed on the screaming child, screams which only worsened as I made my way toward her. “What fresh hell is this?” I muttered almost silently, crossing myself before I reached the child. “What in God's name has happened here?” I addressed the man, my eyes fixed on the woman's motionless figure. Her chest heaved, though her body was at an awkward angle. “Did you not hear?”  
  
He looked in the direction of the raging horse. “My wife.” Was all he said.

  
“And this is your daughter?” I looked to the child, now sobbing so hard it was inaudible. The man nodded. “What are they doing here?” I did not get chance to hear his answer before Richard was charging toward me with the mad horses rider in his grasp.   
  
“Ned!” He shouted, moments later he threw the man on the grass beside me. “This is the fool responsible for this chaos.”   
  
“Where have you come from?” He looked to the horse which Will was fighting to control, his eyes wide with fear and pain. Fear made worse as I gripped him, paying little attention as the child screamed almost deafeningly. “Tell me now or the fear you now feel will be nothing.”  
  
“George of Clarence sir. My master is George the Duke of Clarence, the King's broth-”  
  
“I know who he is!” I dropped the man without a pause, looking at Richard.  
  
“Did he send you with a message?”

 

“Yes sir.” He nodded, looking nervous as Richard held out a hand.   
  
“I will beat it from you.” Richard snapped in a rare bout of visible anger..

 

“We were sent to tell the earl of Warwick that King Edward-” I saw as it all made sickly sense to him as he looked at me. “To tell him that you had returned your grace and that he should prepare.”   
  
“Where is Clarence?” I snapped.   
  
“An hours ride north.”

 

“Find him a horse Richard. You will take me there, I will see him.” Richard followed my orders. “As for you.” I looked at the woman and child once again. “Hobbes!” I grabbed the surgeon as he scampered out of his tent, awoken finally by the noise. “Help this woman, take her to my tent, treat her there.” As Richard returned with the horse.  
  
“Ned I should come with you.”  
  
“No, you stay here and organise this chaos, I wouldn't trust anyone else with such a task more than you Dickon.”  
  
“You could walk into a trap.” He retorted, following me, walking the horse as I went to get my own.   
“You think George capable of that?”  
  
“Did you think George capable of this chaos?”  
  
“This was an accident. If George was to plan this? He would have ambushed us and cut our throats in our sleep.”   
  
***

 

We rode, though much to my frustration, I was not alone. Richard had not agreed to stay at the camp, so as I rode into George's camp, Richard was beside me. Beside me too as I dismounted, greeted by the voice that brought irritation to me instantly. “Brother mine, what a pleasure to see you.”  
  
“Spare me the shit George. I am tired and honestly? I do not have the patience for you. I came to talk to you.”  
  
“Here was I thinking you had come simply to look at my beauty.”  
  
“You are growing more vain than I. It does not flatter you George.”

 

He did not respond, only looked at our guide as he dismounted silently, head hung. “I should have known it would be you, I'll deal with you later. What did he do brother? Come to you and sell his soul to you for the information?”  
  
“He blundered upon the camp, I dare say he has killed someone.”  
  
“The spoils of war.” George shrugged.   
  
“It is not the spoils of war George.” He shrugged. “Shall we?” George offered a hand signal toward his tent, tensing as Richard followed us inside. “You intend to join our cousin Warwick?” He said nothing. “I am surprised you are not with him already. I assume you are not merely gathering men?” He did not speak, as he remained silent I changed tactics. “How is your wife George? Are you to expect more babes?”   
  
“She is well.” His attention turned to Richard. “I expect Anne Neville will soon be expecting a child.”  
  
“George.” Dickon snapped.   
  
“You missed your opportunity to wed that girl when you rejected Warwick. You cannot claim her now-”  
  
“I rejected Warwick, because I would not reject our brother.” Dickon retorted, George pursed his lips to speak.   
  
“You bear Warwick the same resentment as I do George. I can see it. Whilst Richard lost his opportunity to claim Anne Neville as his wife, you have lost your chance to be king. What is in this for you George? You think the bitch will let you live in peace? She will judge you as she judged me-”  
  
“You deposed her husband-”  
  
“I deposed her tyranny because I had no choice! She judged me as she judged papa. She will do the same to you and to Warwick. He may paint this as a all suns and roses George but, if she wins you are as well to hang yourself.” I saw him think of it. “I will offer you full pardon, join me George and it will be like you never left, but you must agree to do so now.”

 

  
George joined us on our march south from there. I still am not sure that I know why he chose to follow, whether his intention was to join us, whether he saw his path had run its course. I do not know. I will never know if he intended to cause such chaos, or if he knew he killed the mother of an innocent girl.

 


	54. Coventry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this is so short! Starting a new job, busy finishing my old one and basically? I couldn't negotiate the sources for what happened at Coventry right now. I will expand this when I get opportunitiy, but currently, I am so bogged down :(
> 
> Here is one of the sources I used though Really very interesting:
> 
>  
> 
> http://www.r3.org/on-line-library-text-essays/the-arrivall-of-edward-iv/part-iii-confrontation-at-coventry-through-the-battle-of-barnet/

  
We were sat around a table, maps strewn across it. Will was using daggers to pinpoint core locations, using his finger to highlight our route. That was until our plans were stopped, interrupted by a panting youth. "My lords, your graces." He panted, red faced as he hurried toward us. In truth I thought him like to die, else combust before us. I did not give him the minute I thought he deserved, I did not have time to offer before he went on. "I would speak now for this is urgent."  
  
"Then get on with it." George snapped, sipping the water, I saw disgust on his face as he gulped. He shrugged as in irritation, he gained three glances of disapproval.   
  
"Your grace, whilst I was scouting for you." He spoke to me, only to me. "I learnt of the presence of the Earl of Warwick close by."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Coventry Castle." He panted.   
  
"How many men?"  
  
"I do not know. Though he is separate from his army-"  
  
"That is drastic-" Richard stepped forward as he spoke, looking at me.   
  
"That is a trap." Will muttered. "He is not a fool Ned, he would not risk that. He would have us think he at Coventry to bring you to the open road, else he would have you think he has few men, then he would ambush you." Though his words made sense, I could not heed them.   
  
"He would have me think that for what? Do you think he believes we do not have an army? Besides Will, do you not think that even if this is a trap we could not take him?"  
  
"Yes, I truly believe that. I would not advise it if it was not so. Ned, for once, submit on this. God damn it, you will have us all killed."  
  
"You are not compelled to come with me. I give you blessing-"  
  
"You are dismissed." Will ordered to the boy, waiting until he was gone before he said his next words. "You will not go." He saw my eyebrow raise, cutting me off as he continued. "I swore to your father that should aught happen to him I would protect you, guide you. Not through your youth Ned, but forever. It has happened, and I will uphold that promise. You forget I was his man before I was yours. No, do not interrupt me." I saw George's amusement, Dickon's irritation. "If you go to that castle I must accompany you. You will be sending us both to our graves, for foolishness-"  
  
"You would have him left, to his own ways, and you would have him strengthen his army whilst he is close - less than an hours ride! Will! Even as we talk I do not doubt he is gaining more men flocking to his banner than we have had from York to here!"   
  
"You of all should know that numbers do not win a war!" Will shouted, red faced with anger for the first time I recalled. Directing it to me, and only me. "You won at Towton where the odds were against you, we were outnumbered, we won at Mortmer's Cross, where we were outnumbered, St Albans, where we were outnimbered-"  
  
"And my father lost at Wakefield, where he was outnumbered, Warwick at St Albans where he was outnumbered, I surrendered to Warwick because we were outnumbered, I will not take this risk."  
  
"Agincourt." That was all Will offered before he continued. "Agincourt, where Henry V was outnumbered. He won with a startling victory-"  
  
"Do not mention that cursed war. My father nearly died there. Why? Because he too was outnumbered. The evidence does not work in your favour William Hastings."  
  
"Then let it work in mine." George spoke. "Warwick will have men. Doubtless he will not have them all. He will have them stationed up the road and ready to attack should our army be spotted. No, he will have select men with him. Select men such as Johnny, such as any man who will not pause to kill you-"  
  
"You vote in Hastings favour George? How surprising you seek to protect Warwick-"  
  
"I seek to protect you Ned." He sounded bored, insincere.   
  
"I will confront him. I will confront him and we will sort this once and for all. Man on man-"  
  
"You propose as dual?" Will half laughed, more in disbelief than amusement. "Why do we not sit with wine and sweetmeats and discuss this with him? See if we can talk him over to our banner and offer him full pardon whilst he stabs us in the back. No." His voice fell flat at the end.   
  
It was Anthony who next voiced his opinion. "I have more reason than most to want to confront Warwick, Edward, but though it pains me, I must side with Lord Hastings." I saw too that it pained Will, though he tried to look grateful for this unwanted support. I saw George too was reconsidering his options. "I would not say it were it not true."   
  
"He has Oxford with him, and Exeter." George interrupted, seeing my eyes widen at his knowledge "Johnny too. Do not Ned, we have been in negotiation. Do you recall?"  
  
"Then negotiate again." I snapped. "If I cannot go to him, then he will come to me."   
  
  
***  
  
Nothing came of our dispute. I did not make my way to the castle at Coventry. Nor did Warwick come to us. It was the following morning that with Will's orders, we packed camp and began our progress to London. 


	55. Chapter 55

Westminster Abbey, 1471. If my time away from London taught me only one thing, it was that above all I had missed my children. It taught me that I had in so many years learnt so little about them. That I had not offered them enough of my attention, and whilst I might try to justify this in the turmoil that passed between myself and Warwick, nothing like my return to Westminster could have taught me that more.

Elizabeth stared, her eyes wide as she looked at me in silence. She did not say a word, could not say a word. Clung to her, protected by her arms were Elizabeth and Mary, their faces masked in her dress. It was several tense moments in the freezing Abbey air before she spoke, finally releasing our daughters as she hurried toward me. "Edward, Edward please let my eyes not be deceiving me." Her arms wrapped around me as she jumped into my grasp.

"Did you think for even a moment they were?" My words grew quiet toward the end, her tears wetting the skin on my neck. "Lisbet, please, Lisbet, hush now my love, why do you cry-"

"I thought you were dead. Edward I thought for sure you were dead. Then here you are and without warning damn you."

"I could not safely send word my sweet." I felt her tense in my arms as I heard the scuttling of feet, turning to see Anthony approach.

"Have you not missed me too sister?" I felt her push away from me, stepping toward him as her feet touched the floor. I did not have long to see her greet him, greet too with Will and Richard with a surprising joy. I did not see her reaction to George, not as Bess and Mary squeeled as they ran toward me, all arms and hair. "Papa!" Bess was the one who reached my arms first, gloating to her sister as she still out her tongue. Gloating I knew for the three extra inches that came with her superior age. "Papa we missed you! I did not think you were dead! I knew you were not. I knew because I knew that you had to come back to me. I knew you could not leave us. Mother did not say it, but I did! I told her when she doubted that you were not allowed to leave us." She giggled as I hooted with laughter.

"Ma mere did not doubt!" Mary shouted up to me, jumping to try and gain my attention. It was Bess who poured as I put her to the ground, lifting Mary onto my shoulders, smiling as she insisted on messing my hair.

"Grandmama told us of how ma mere thought you her knight errant." Bess demanded my attention once again, having the determination to grab my cloak as I turned away, her grip strong enough to stop me before I tripped. She grinned as I dipped to lift her, holding her in the crook of my arm as I walked to the window, perching on the sill.

"So what of your mother eh Bessy?"

"You are her knight errant, you would not let her down.I knew it when Grandmama told me! You could not, it just is not allowed. Not allowed." She shook her head. "Grandmama told me that ma mere has ever seen you as her fancy."

"Yes?" I smirked, though I heard her words, I could not deny that my eyes had fixed upon Lisbet, amusement filling me as I saw her regard George with an anger no other could muster.

"Pay attention!"

"Oi!" Mary retorted to her sister."Papa is king-"

"Mary, Mary, do not worry. Bess, I ever took her fancy?"

"Yes." Bess grinned, showing her tongue once again to her sister. "Grandmama says that she swooned over you."

"Swooned eh?"

"Yes! Swooned!"

"And what did mother say?"

"I said you have ever been a pain in the arse Edward Plantagenet." I had not seen her approach, though she smiled as I smirked, shrugging. "Girls will you pester your father so? He is tired." As though to disprove her words, I stepped away from the wall putting Bess back on the ground, swinging Mary from my shoulder to Elizabeth's arms, stepping toward the small child w/o stood wide eyed beside the wooden door leading to their makeshift bed chamber.

"Cecily, sweetheart, you have grown." She stepped back, turning she ran to her sisters arms. Grace stepped forward.

"She does not remember you my Lord and father." Perhaps it is her maternity, I do not know but Grace has ever been a quiet child, less bold, less willing to scrap formality.

"I trust you do Grace?"

"I could not forget you." She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "Would you like to hold her?" She offered after a moment, passing Cecily up to me.

"Papa?" Cecily offered as her fingers hooked onto the chain of my cloak, unlocking it she dragged it from my shoulders.

"That is right sweetheart, I am." She did not seem to much care, favouring Lisbets attention as she reached for her, taking with her my cloak.

"She is tired Ned. Exhausted. It has been so troubling for her." She did not give me chance to respond, instead shouting. "Art!" I did not move, it was only a second before Arthur stepped out, and in his arms was a small bundle. A bundle which moved ever so slightly, twitching to life before it began to cry.

 

"Father." Art handed the bundle to me, using his head to nudge my arms into a cradle as I froze. He did not let go of his brother until I had sprung again to life, cradling my infant son's head as he whined.

"Edward." I whispered, kissing his head, beginning to to rock him as he screamed, aggrevated by the scratch of my beard. "Hush little one." I soothed, rocking more smoothly until he fell silent, cooing slightly as he reached for the scratchy bristles that had so offended him. There is something special about the moment a man meets his son. There is something astounding about knowing you have secured a succession. As I looked at that boy, his bright eyes as blue as they are now, his mouth curling into a smile as he finally caught his target, his tiny feet kicking at my arm so careless of what was about to happen, I felt the hand of God upon my shoulder, I felt a hope within my chest, a fire within my belly which had been extinguished, now revitalized. Without that, without having held my son in my arms, I do not doubt we would have lost.

I do not doubt that for even one second.


	56. Barnet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Another reason  
> Another cause for me to fight  
> Another fuse uncovered  
> Now, for me to light  
> My dedication  
> To all that I've sworn to protect  
> I carry out my orders  
> With not a regret  
> A declaration  
> Embedded deep under my skin  
> A permanent reminder  
> Of how we began  
> No hesitation  
> When I am commanding the strike  
> You need to know  
> That you're in for the fight of your life
> 
> You will be shown  
> How I've become
> 
> Indestructible  
> Determination that is incorruptible  
> From the other side  
> A terror to behold  
> Annihilation will be unavoidable  
> Every broken enemy will know  
> That their opponent had to be invincible  
> Take a last look around while you're alive  
> I'm an indestructible master of war"

Barnet, Just north of London. Easter Sunday 1471.

“Ned.” Richard’s voice was low, so awfully grave as he shook me awake. Will snored almost silent beside me, the wet grass no obstacle for him as it reminded me of my location, my predicament. A predicament I saw was weighing so heavily on Dickon’s features. He had not slept, no matter how much I had encouraged rounds, a part of me had known that he, this loyal brother of mine would not listen to such a command. He would not, could not have been expected to sleep the night before this battle. This battle, the battle of all battles.

The battle in which he would be expected to kill not only his cousin, but the man who had taught him all he knew. The man I had called an ally, but the man he had called a friend.

If I did not know better then, as well as I do now, I would have thought Dickon so likely to deflect, to follow in George’s treacherous footsteps and join those who had been so welcoming of him. Who had taken him so willingly into their homes. A part of me in truth had expected that when the battle was neigh, he would join sweet Johnny who had so oft offered him guidance – guidance I now know I neglected to offer myself.

Yet he did not, even as he looked greensick, and stricken, even as his eyes were so dark and so red in that morning cold, so obvious he did not allow his eyes even a seconds rest, he stood strong and close beside me. “Dickon, Jesu, but you look like shit.” I earnt little more than a half arsed smile at my attempted humour. In truth, I think none would have laughed, myself included. For that morning more than any other was so dead of humour. Our senses were as wet and numb as the dew which had set upon us as we slept. “They are readying, as should we.” Dickon whispered before he crawled away.

“Wake up.” Will startled as my elbow connected with his ribs.

“Cock.” He muttered, looking at me, though he chuckled lightly as I grinned. “We must ready?” I think Will Hastings was the only man who felt no regret amongst our ranks that morning, at least he let none show as he responded to my nod with a speed and efficiency I doubt in these days he is capable of. For now he stalks around my chamber as though he is death himself, though his dagger never leaves his belt and he seldom rests. As though he is preparing for a visit from the devil that plagues my mind, and is like to be able to slay the threat of imminent death that weighs heavily on my chest.

 

That morning however, there was no devil in my mind, only a determination so pure, it almost hurt. No one spoke as we scrambled low to ready ourselves, rolling canons and readying hand guns; archers waxing strings, crafting arrows; men sharpened blades; we inspected and as our armour was readied, strapped upon us we made our way to the lines we would draw. It was then, hours after Warwick’s prized guns had fallen silent, and his camp was unawares, our standards rose at my command. I spoke not a word to Dickon, sharing a glance which said it all. Beneath his helmet, his eyes were filled with emotion, though no tears left the dark slits of his eyes. His head snapped forward and he, to my right, was the first to bark his command. “Charge!”

In the flurry his men’s movements, we were almost left behind until spurred on, my men made way into the Lancastrian camp of my cousins and the slaughter soon began. Blood ran like streams, so fast did we all have to move, so quick did Warwick organise his forces that I barely noticed what happened around me. I barely saw as Richard fought to keep his ground, or as my left flank failed. I focused only on staying alive. Later we would count the dead, all I could do was hope that my closest allies would live this battle or die by my side. For perhaps the tensest hour of my life, it seemed that Warwick and his Neville kin would indeed claim victory this day, as we fell back, forced by his onslaught, they gained ground faster than we lost it. That was until, by some twist of fate, Oxford’s banners appeared behind the Lancastrian ranks in their failed attempt to encircle us. That spurred Montague’s ranks to turn upon them and calls of treason filled our ears. That was our chance, that weakened their numbers enough that our pursuit was strengthened enough to fatally break Warwick’s ranks, and within the next hour, his men had dwindled and the remaining fled. Warwick quite securely at their lead. “Find him, for God’s sakes find him!” My cry went out, I gripped George’s arm as he went to follow our men. “If he is dead, I will send whoever killed him to their maker, do you hear me George?”

Baffled George nodded, but went to round our men into a search party as I made my way back through our ranks, men now broke off, feeling free to leave the battlefield in pursuit of ale. Others stripped corpses of their valuables, whilst a few still fought, unsure whether the battle was over. Unsure if they had their freedom before Warwick was dragged to me, repenting for his sins. The camp as I returned to it was a pathetic sight. One fire burned deeply, kept alight by my own travelling physicians. Around the camp, several old fires smouldered, damp smoke rising from their black ashes. I stood, staring numbly for several moments, unsure what to think, if indeed I was able to think. It was only then the pain of battle took me, aching setting into every inch, every joint as though it had always, should always, would always be there. I gripped hard onto the hilt of my sword, thrusting the blade into the wet ground as I leaned on it. Several minutes passed before I heard the hand rest on my shoulder. “Ned?”

“Will? Thank God.” Our embrace was quickly interrupted by the sounds of shouts.

“You won’t touch me!” Without a glance, Lord Hastings and I moved as fast as our armour clad exhausted bodies would allow us toward my tent. Breaking into in under a minute, within was a sight that made my heart leap – both for joy and sadness. Hobbes stood, needle ready in his hand. Dickon too stood, naked above the waist, a gash down his arm from his shoulder to almost his elbow.

“Dickon, dear God what has happened?” He had not seen me, for he jumped as he heard my voice, stepping away as I reached to grip him, he winced as my hand clasped around his wrist, my eyes inspecting his wound. “Hobbes what are you waiting for man he needs-“

“He will not let me touch him.” For the first time in my adult life, Hobbes sounded irritated. As irritated as he had when I had needed his attentions as a child, when he had on several occasions prevented my injuries before they had occurred, only to offer me a hiding for my stupidity. His eyes burned as he looked at my brother now. “His stubbornness is almost unrivalled.”

“I will not have him touch me Ned.” Dickon’s voice was shrill. My response was cut off before it left my mouth however, interrupted as George burst into the tent, Anthony at his side.

“John Neville is dead, they still search for Warwick.” Anthony muttered, dropping George onto the bench closest to the tents entrance. “And he…is grace is injured.” Anthony pulled back George’s armour to show the wound down his leg.

I said nothing, nodding to Hobbes to deal with George as I turned from the tent, shouting for my horse. ***

As my horse galloped through the forest, the trees my security as the acted a dense shield to oncoming arrows, Will was on my tail, his horse panting as it tried in desperation to keep up with his master’s desired pace. It was several minutes before we heard the voices of men, heard the shouting torments. “Take his purse, if he has one. His armour if not, it will be worth a coin or two if we sell it.”

“Take his head too, for I bet His Grace would be right pleased if we were the ones to deliver it to him.”

Their voices stopped as they heard my the sticks break under my horses weight. They dropped to their knees as they looked, hearing me shift in the saddle as I brought my mount to a halt. My eyes dropped low, my heart stopping a moment at the sight before me. Warwick lay upon the ground, his neck twisted awkwardly, his sword shattered on the ground. Whatever weapon had been the death of him, it was absent, though blood covered his corpse. Will rested a hand on my thigh, hearing me retch and swallow bile. My voice was hoarse as I spoke. “Did you kill him?” No one spoke for a moment, I pushed Will’s hand away perhaps too harshly as I dismounted from the saddle in a speed which surprised me. “Did you?!” I looked at the five men who surrounded my cousins body. All shook their heads. “Who offered to remove his head?” Though they did not speak, they did not need to for all eyes set upon the man closest to Warwick’s lifeless form.

He screeched as I cleared the distance between us, grabbing his collar forcing him to his knees as I drew my dagger. “You offered to remove the head of lifeless man? A man better born than you?” I pressed the dagger to his throat, hearing him whimper.

“Jesus Ned!” Will only reacted when he saw the smirk on my face, mild amusement as I dug the blade into skin. He jumped from his horse, pushing the remaining men out of his way as he approached. “Christ, what has possessed you?” Will grabbed my wrist, twisting it away from my captive in a move daring for even he. Though he did not show his fear as he glared at me. “Go.” He growled to the men who remained, gaping. “Edward, it is the spoils of war, you know that as well as I. You know that better than I.”

“They killed him, murdered him-“

“You could not have let him live! Do not delude yourself. You had pardoned him. You forgave him, and he threw it back in your face. You could not think to forgive him again and you could not think we would let you. You could not think me or Richard would have let you-" "You could not think you could have stopped me!"

"He had to die-“ Will emphasised every word. 

“He could have died with justice! With dignity!” My voice broke, I was quick to pull back tears, wiping those allowed to fall. Will said nothing, he did not move, did not audibly breathe, only looked. “God Will, it hurts.” I muttered. He did not try to comfort me. I do not think I recall him ever having been so cold. So cold as he would never be again. Now as he will not leave my side for one moment, as he struggles to hide emotion he had so often had controlled.

 


	57. Tewksbury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Leave me tonight  
> Let the warning said, leave a shudder upon you  
> Running from all that you've feared in your life  
> Soul of the night  
> Will a son mislead, paint a horror upon you  
> Marking the moment, displaying in my  
> Ghost of a life  
> That I can't condone the way you left me  
> Out in the open, to leave me to die  
> So how can I  
> Forget the way you led me through the path into heaven,  
> To leave me behind
> 
> Now I can't stay behind  
> Save me, from wreaking my vengeance upon you  
> Too chilling, more than I can tell  
> Burning, now I bring you hell
> 
> Oh burning, now I bring you hell
> 
> Free me tonight  
> Lest the animal, caged, be a terror upon you  
> Caught in the moment, engaging in my  
> Bloodlust tonight  
> Now I can't control my venom's flow  
> Get back from me demon, or be exorcised
> 
> Now I can't stay behind  
> Save me, from wreaking my vengeance upon you  
> Too chilling, more than I can tell  
> Burning, now I bring you hell
> 
> All my emotion and all my integrity  
> All that you've taken from me  
> All my emotion and all my integrity  
> All that you've taken from me."

Tewkesbury 1471 Peter stood in the background, his little hands working to sharpen steel whilst his older companion, a more experienced hand worked to fasten my armour. I could not afford to be distracted, though as I stood with little better to occupy my mind, I could not help but watch the boy as he worked. “Peter, that is enough.” I said finally, clenching a fist to test the plates flexibility, testing movement as the boy stepped forward, holding up the blade.

“Ed- Your Grace.” He did not see my face I smirked, though his companion offered a stern look, almost too harsh. In truth I cannot say there was not jealousy. John, my oldest squire, had spent so many years in my service, yet for his almost twenty years, he did not understand the errors of children. He did not see that Peter was still grappling with the fortune that he, a mere child, had found himself in the presence of a King at York. He still did not understand in full. That was why I believed he continued, much beyond what should have been allowed. Those who knew me would know I did not much wish conversation before battle, I did not wish to be distracted by words. Of all that thought hurt, more than any other in that moment, that Warwick would have known this best, that Warwick, damn him, would have respected it. Warwick would have understood. Yet Warwick was dead… “My father, he taught me young, I learnt to do this from when I could walk.” He continued despite my glace toward his mentor, despite John’s hand firmly on his shoulder. “He would…” Little Peter trailed off.

“Go on Peter.” Dickon’s voice broke through the air, my armour clinked as in truth I jumped. My nerves were so on edge, so raw, and his approach had been silent. “Your father?” I knew before I looked the expression I would see on my brother’s young face. Knew the disgust which would be registered there. The disgust I knew he felt for the sake of his friend, Francis Lovell. “What of him?”

“It does not matter.” Peter began to scurry, about to leave, caught by George’s hand.

“The Duke of Gloucester asked you a question lad.” George muttered, turning Peter toward Richard who I knew too would see the boy tremble as George’s hands gripped his shoulders.

“Let him go.” Richard warned, pulling the child toward him, he knelt in the mud. “He beat you?” Peter nodded, his eyes widening with surprise. “Poor lad, well, that won’t happen again. His Grace my brother, he will not let harm come to you, not if you are loyal and strong.”

“I am loyal and I am strong.” Peter grinned, at any other time it would have amused me, in that moment, I only rolled my eyes.

“Richard, will you stop playing nurse maid now?” I muttered, turning toward him as I sheathed the sword. “Peter, you should find yourself a task to busy yourself with. Sharpen weapons first, more may be needed in the battle, after that, and when battle commences, you may polish leather or-“

“I will not fight with you?” The child sounded disappointed.

I had been about to speak when George burst out. “No, you are a child. You will be as distrac-“

“George.” Richard and I both snapped in sync. It was Richard who offered my thoughts. “No Peter. We want to keep you safe, and you are so small, it would not be right you take to the field with us. Besides, my brother may need you when the battle is done. He may need comfort, else Hobbes may need small hands should we be injured. Do not think we do not trust you.”

“You will lose.” Warwick’s voice filled my head.

The dagger I had been holding, picked from the table fell to the floor, my skin I knew to be as grey and colourless as the Yorkshire sky.

“Ned?” It was Richard who spoke, his attention suddenly on me, Will too had made his way to my side.

“Fail you will fail, always fail, for the sins of yourself, for treason, for me. Murder. It was murder.” Warwick’s voice again within my head, speaking from beyond the grave. “Hell, burn in hell. They will betray you, George he will betray you.”

My eyes shot to George, glaring I knew as Will pulled me away. “Christ Ned, you look like you saw a ghost.” He whispered, his hand reaching to my face he forced my head to look at him, away from George. “It is the tension-“

“Yes, the tension.” I murmured.

“Yes, but why George?”

“Hmm? George? Yes. He will fight beside me.”

“Again? Ned he will not like-“

“He will fight beside me.” I do not know what made me see it, I do not know if he was truly there, but as Will nodded, stepping away as he approached to inform George, stood in the very spot where Will had been, stood Warwick himself, the image of health, the man as I had known him in Calais. That was until in just a second, his healthy frame replaced with his bloodied corpse. Then he represented death itself. Then I truly thought he would be right. I truly believed I would die. With that I smelled burning, one like I had never smelled before. Burning like that of flesh, only something tinged at its core. Brimstone I was sure, and fear.

I could smell my own fear as my heart thundered, my skin slicked with sweat.

 

***

*** The battle had been hard won. Bodies lay strewn across the fields. Men were dying, and I could hear it, I could smell it, I could feel it. I had not run from the field, not as I had seen the unarmoured form of Warwick running toward me, though I had feared. Instead, it had pushed me to victory, instead his words, his presence had dragged me further and further from defeat. “You were as a mad man out there.” George uttered jokingly as we returned to camp, he did not pay attention, did not see as my limping stopped, did not see the glare that he should stop. “I have never seen anything like it, it was thought you were possessed.”

Mercifully for him, he was interrupted, distracted from his words as the young man ran to us, panting as he caught breath enough to speak. “Your graces, I have news that Edward of Lancaster has tried to flee the field, my lord the Duke of Gloucester is in pursuit but wishes-”

“George go.” I barked.

“You will not come? You would miss such an opportunity?” George's voice was almost gleeful, and I wished to shake him, shake sense in to him, shake life out of him, just shake him until he fell silent. How could he not realise I wished for none of this, the death of a seventeen year old boy was not something I desired. Edward of Lancaster was no older than Edmund upon his death, that is something I would never rejoice for. George did not see that his death was not a choice, but a necessity.

“No.” I shook my head. “I think you both capable of this task.” He did not get to say another word, and fled off into the day as I turned, taking steps back to the camp. It was not until I reached the tents security I spoke again. “Hobbes.” I whispered, caught by several hands as my body fell limp.

***

When I awoke, Hobbes was standing over me, needle still in hand, my chest bared. “What happened?” Hobbes questioned, though I doubt he had looked to know I was awake, he must have known as I winced when his needle touched tender skin. “Who?”

“I do not know who.” I muttered, thanking God as his work stopped, he tied off the stitching expertly. “They took a blow at me. It dinted my armour, right into me.”

“You must take care.” Hobbes advised, looking to Will as he entered, Will's eyes widened as he saw me, though he looked to Hobbes who shrugged.

“Edward, there are lords locked away in in the Abbey. We could not find you so on your behalf, Gkoucester granted dispensation that those seeking sanctuary may be left, their right to sanctuary honoured.”

“As it should be, you say Lords? What names do you mention?”

“Somerset.” It was Anthony who caused me to sit upright with a jolt.

“You are quite sure? Anthony be sure, I will not have you desacrate the honour of the church for a theory. Somerset is in that Abbey?” Anthony nodded, though I do not think he expected me to stand. Will did not hesitate to fetch for me more armour, strapping it on depite Hobbes' objections. It was only as we mounted our horses, trotting toward the Abbey that anyone spoke.

“What is your intention?” Will spoke.

“We will tear that building apart to get them, take it down brick by brick if they will not open the door to us.”

***

The abbot had held his ground, refusing us entry as was his right. I had not been able to help myself from cursing the man. Will and Anthony had been ready to act, about to shout for action as the man denied us. Except I had hesitated, holding them back with my own anxiety. Warwick's words, his curses, they had forced me to pause. Hell looming over me, not now because of defeat, but because of the church. Because these men were cowards, because they would seek sanctuary from God before they would face their deaths. Of course, I would let them speak with God before they begged for their eternal rest. As for me?

I did not know. God had shown he was ever on my side, but to drag these men from his house and to their deaths?

I could not think of that. Could not think of the implications. Not as Warwick's voice once more filled my head, Johnny's too beside it. That was why I snapped when Dickon approached, his hand on my arm. "Ned-"

"What?"

He blinked as I spoke too harshly, though he continued. "This surely will not change it, you will not have them dragged from the Abbey. Tell me you will not, please Ned-"

"Ma mere always told me not to lie." I shrugged.

"Ned, this is a holy place, you cannot, must not disrespect that-"

"They cannot live. God is with us Dickon, he will understand when we drag the treacherous swines from that building kicking and screaming. God is with us, he rounded them to his house not for protection Dickon, but slaughter. Do you not see that?"

"No. I do not. I do not propose you do not kill them Ned, I would not say they deserve to live-"

His words were cut off as his eyes were fixed on the oncoming sight. Men pulling carts of dead past the abbey walls. One cart I saw with the body of the Lancaster boy, the cart upon which Richard's eyes focused. "I see he is dead then." Richard nodded, coldly. "George!" I shouted as he cantered his horse in supervision of the burial. "Cover his body, and do not bury it. I would have it taken to London, there it shall be displayed. No one shall doubt what happens if you cross me." George nodded, I saw Richard gulp. "What would you have me do in alternative Dickon? Wait in silence until they leave sanctuary? That will be long enough that they take up holy orders and I am grey of hair and face. No." I offered a hand to Will, gesturing toward the door, exhaling before I spoke. "Break it down with an axe if you need to. Then have them brought to me without their fingernails if they will not release the alter they cling to."

Will did not hesitate, ordering his men forward, they stormed the abbey.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do what you, what you want  
> If you have a dream for better  
> Do what you what you want  
> Till you don't want it anymore (Remember who you really are)
> 
> Do what you, what you want  
> Your world's closing in on you now (It isn't over)  
> Stand and face the unknown (Got to remember who you really are)  
> Every heart in my hands like a pale reflection
> 
> Hello, hello remember me?  
> I'm everything you can't control  
> Somewhere beyond the pain  
> There must be a way to believe we can break through
> 
> Do what you, what you want  
> You don't have to lay your life down (Is it over?)  
> Do what you what you want  
> Till you find what you're looking for (Got to remember who you really are)
> 
> But every hour slipping by screams that I have failed you  
> Hello, hello remember me?  
> I'm everything you can't control  
> Somewhere beyond the pain there must be a way to believe"

Blood dripped onto consecrated grass.

 

Weapons drawn, we stood in the yard surrounding the old Abbey. 

 

Dickon had pleaded enough to force our advance to falter. That had not stopped the drawing of bloodied steel, had not stopped the onslaught which would happen. He had delayed our advance as he had charged his horse ahead of us, and stopped before the Abbot, making a desperate plea to have the lords within removed, removed on the ground that the church itself had no right to offer sanctuary. A plea which had been foolishly denied, denied on the grounds that God would not see men turned away from his house and into the jaws of death. Dickon's face had been ashen as my order had been given to advance. 

Perhaps it is a touch of the dramatic to say that fear could be smelled in the air. It was almost tangible, the Abbot watched in wide eyed horror, perhaps he had expected that we would retreat. That the fear of God may indeed make me pause, yet it did not. It is passing strange that now, as this room grows ever darker, my senses beginning to fail me, I cannot help but think with the little energy I preserve that this would be my damnation. 

 

This and so much more...

 

The mans pleas were offered to convincingly, so much so that I could ignore them with some difficulty. "Your Grace, please, do not, please, think of your soul, of your place in God's land-"

"I will offer them mercy, it is for them to accept." I said nothing more as I entered the Abbey, the tiled floor astonishingly clean for so many bloodied men. The doors had been open within seconds as Will barged through them with relative ease. Within I already heard the sound of feet, rushing in panic to wherever they fled. I felt the Abbot's presence so close I could feel his breath, sighing, with no lack of an eye roll my voice was dangerously quiet. "You each have a minute. A minute I am granting you in mercy none do deserve. A minute to gather outside this Abbey and there, only there, will your fates be decided. Those who do not will regret ever choosing to defy me." 

There was a lack of movement. The Abbey was so quiet for all save the mouse which scurried somewhere toward the cloisters. "Very well." I whispered. "I did not wish it to come to this, that I should be forced to such desecration." I saw eyes widen as I drew a cross over myself. "Drag them out without a care, and spare them nothing in the way of mercy." My hand rested on Will's arm, my voice once again quiet. "Those who resist you, dispatch them quickly." 

Blood flowed over the tiles within moments. Blades cut throats, entered torsos, all so fast I could hardly recall. I still do not much remember who perished in that church. I do not recall the names, the bodies. My eyes had fixed upon one man among the chaos, one man who clung to the cross as though it would save him. One man who dared shout my damnation. "York, you will burn in hell for this, hell with your father-" Somerset was cut off by the Abbot as the man dared grip my arm with a force no priest should possess.

"Please your grace, do not do this. Enough blood has been spilled. I beg you, put and end to this madness and they shall be removed. I beg you." His voice cracked with emotion, his hands shook, the man looked greensick, terrified. 

 

"Stop! If another of you harms these men it will be you who swings damn you all!" Will looked back to me as I shouted. His eyes hard, his order to stop following my own until the church once again was still. "The rest are to be dragged, the dead removed. Anthony." My voice lowered as I turned to Lisbet's brother, his skin too drained of blood. "Fetch men to help the Abbot clean what has happened here-"

"I would have you all leave, each and every last one of you." The Abbot's voice was hard with authority. "We shall never forget what has happened here, but as stark reminder, I would have only holy men remove trace of your bloodshed."

"Very well." I recall my tone was cold and haughty, and it was not until each Lancastrian was dragged from that Abbey that I spoke with Abbot again. "I say, there is one last thing you will do for me." 

 

"As if I have not done enough-"

"You will fetch she who is hiding within your walls. I would have her brought to me. You know of whom I speak."

Marguerite was brought to me, George had been sent to bring her, and bring her he did. Bring her cursing my name and my existence. 

 

Cursed me more she did when days later, under Dickon's seal, Somerset's death warrant was signed and his head swiftly was removed from his shoulders. She cursed me indeed all the way to London and beyond, or so I am told, she would not cease her foul spewing of words as she sat within her litter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my research, what happened at Tewkesbury is among two possibilities, the second of which worked much better for the story on a entertainment basis, however here are the possibilities so that you can make your own conclusions. 
> 
> 1\. According 'The Arrivall' it is stated that Edward basically observed every religious right, not killing those within the abbey on consecrated land and indeed offered a pardon to those within. 
> 
> 2\. Abbey records suggest that the land was deemed polluted, so much so it had to be reconsecrated, and records here suggest that Edward commanded slaughter within the Abbey (both building and lands) but was begged by priests to stop further slaying, which is possible. However, whilst this may be the account I chose to adopt for the story, it is important to raise two points;
> 
> Somerset whom was within the Abbey's parameters was executed two days following this event, which seems quite unlikely of itself if Edward did demand slaughter, unless Edward ordered the death of only those who resisted. 
> 
> Also, as acknowledged in accounts of what happened at Towton, where supposedly Edward ordered that commons were to be spared, this would have been unlikely to have happened in such a way. Unless Edward took only those most trusted to him into the Abbey, it would have been hard to regain control over battle victors, regardless of their station once allowed to commit slaughter. 
> 
> So... I'll leave people to make their own conclusions of this.


	59. Chapter 59

London 1471

 

"Papa!" No sooner had my horse come through the palace gates than Bess had charged toward me with determination, barely giving me chance to reach down and lift her before the confused creature would have stepped on her. With a childish disregard, she flung her arms across my belly in her attempt to pull me into her embrace as she sat upon my saddle, sticking out her tongue at Mary who glared from the floor. "Papa, I missed you more than Mary did."  
  
"She's lying!" Mary screeched.   
  
"Now, girls, I am sure you both missed me equally-"  
  
"No, no I missed you more." Bess prodded me, squealing as I lifted her with ease, jokingly holding her over the edge of the saddle.   
  
"Shall I drop you?"  
  
"You would not dare!" She snapped, her hands showing her fear as they gripped at air, her feet swinging frantically as she wriggled.   
  
"Then stop wriggling, else I may not have choice."   
  
I heard Will's laugh as his horse stopped, and soon he was forced to lift Mary into his own saddle where she too stuck her tongue out at her sister.    
  
"You flatter those girls with too much attention." George stated as he pulled his horse up sharp. He did not break his stubborn expression as Bess put her thumbs in her ears, wiggling her hands at him. He only shook his head.   
  
"Ah Bess, do not fret sweet, I remember when your uncle was much the same and he would jump into grandpapa's lap. He is only jealous for he was never lavished the attention you are."  
  
"You spoil them." He muttered.   
  
"He was never a beautiful princess though." Will chuckled, not silence as George glared.   
  
"Ma mere!" Bess shouted. "Will called me boooootifal!" 

 

"He called _us_ butiful" Mary corrected.  
  
"You can't even say boooootifal!" Will laughed as Bess pointed at Mary. 

 

"Lord Hastings would know enough of women to know beauty I suppose." Lisbet said, reaching up to take Mary from Will's hands, much to Mary's disappointment. She held her hand out for Bess too, allowing me to dismount. "I have missed you." She whispered as my feet touched the floor, moments before I pulled her into my arms, our lips connecting. It was only as the end of our retinue came through the palace gates she broke away from me, her eyes burning with anger. "What is she doing here?"   
  
As I turned, seeing the litter come to a halt that I heard the French cursing. "Lisbet, darling, I could not simply send her to the tower-"  
  
"Why not? You have not-"  
  
"Christ!" I laughed despite her accusations. "Do you think me so devoid of all senses? No, I have not. I have brought her here so all can see the disgraced whore for what she is. No more will people contest our position with claims that she, this wench, is any queen. I will make a demonstration to show she cannot oppose us."   
  


"Papa." I felt the slight tug at my cloak. Cecily fell from her unsteady feet and onto the stones before I had chance to lift her into my arms.   
  
"Who is she?" Bess announced Anne Neville's arrival with high eyebrows. I confess I turned, seeing first Dickon looking to her with a glance I had never seen upon his face before; love. The smile upon his lips spoke only of affection for the lady, not of the treason she had been involved in. Not the plot she had been whisked into by her father. It was only after a moment her gaze met mine, her cheeks flushing not with embarrassment, but as I saw her eyes divert from me, her body changed, suddenly tense. Tense enough I knew that Middleham was all save forgotten by more than just me. "She is boootifal, and uncie Dicko thinks it."   
  
"I am sure he does." I murmured. "Lisbet." I handed Cecily to her, stepping away, Bess following me before I could tell her otherwise. In truth I had barely noticed the child as I approached Anne's horse. "My lady, welcome to London." I smiled, offering a hand to aid her dismount. An offer she awkwardly accepted, aided to the floor by my grasp, a grasp which allowed my whisper to go unheard. "I think I do owe you an apology madam, for my behaviour some years past."  
  
"It is forgotten your grace, and does not need forgiveness, it is not my place to forgive you for the wrong my father did." I saw her statement hurt, saw the uncertainty of her words.   
  
"Do you mind if I escort the lady?" Dickon's voice made me jump.   
  
"May I help?" Bess shouted, too excitedly. "You are very pretty ma lady." Bess bowed, her hair falling messily over her face as she acted.   
  
"And you are Princess Elizabeth?" Anne questioned, bobbing down to her height. "You too are very pretty, as Princesses should be."  
  
"Papa! She called me pretty!"   
  
"Yes Bess." I looked to Dickon, seeing his hand rest on Anne's. "Dickon, take her to the east wing. There she shall   
wait for audience."   
  
"But Ned-" Dickon began to protest.  
  
"No, I am sorry Dickon, but it is how it must be." Anne nodded, about to turn away when my hand caught hers. "Cousin, do not fret." Her smile forced a rare flush to my cheeks as I reciprocated the gesture. "No harm shall come to you."

 

God how I do wish I could have told her the truth that day, but as George had in his private audience demanded what then I had thought only reasonable, that Anne Neville be not punished but for her own safety, for her welfare, she be his ward of sorts. Where she could be close to her sister, close to all that was familiar. Where she would be treated in accordance with her station until such a time she married... If only I could have told her with such conviction the truth, and if I could have changed it, could have released her to Dickon's care, then perhaps I would have. As I now recall the hope in her deep green eyes, the smile, the belief as Dickon escorted her as to my command away. 


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the writers keep writing what they write  
> Somewhere another pretty vein just dies  
> I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see  
> That you’re the antidote to everything except for me, me
> 
> A constellation of tears on your lashes  
> Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes  
> In the end everything collides  
> My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

**The Palace of Westminster.**

 

The Hall was too hot. Too many bodies piled into the room. People had passed before me throughout the afternoon, face had merged into face until suddenly consciousness had taken hold again. Before me stood a woman, a woman I had once found a threat, a woman who I had once thought imposing. Now so frail in appearance, all now because she had fallen from power and now... Now she looked so ruined before me.

 

“Maraguerite.” The name rolled off my tongue too easily. I did not care as she glared at me, her eyes burned as I smirked.  

**"You." Her face had set into a scowl. "Are taking pleasure in this." She spoke, though now her eyes fixed on Elizabeth beside me, so intently that Lisbet's hand rested on mine, her nails chafing skin.  
**   
"No madam." I winced, pulling my hand away from my wife. "I do not take pleasure in this-"  
  
"Then why did you not dispatch me? Why did you not show me mercy-" 

"You are so desperate? And why? Why are you so desperate that you not only wish for death but see life not as mercy but sufference?"   
  
"My son is dead." She shrieked. "My husband too-"  
  
"Is alive. For now at least."  
  
"You foul-"  
  
"That is quite enough, thank you." Will had tensed I saw, ready to aid in dragging the French whore from my view. "As for your son? Yes, he died in battle, is that not honourable?" She spat, much to my disgust. "Very well, then if you are so reluctant to listen I will say that there was little hesitation. Though, I do not feel guilt in the way of it. A just punishment I might say for the death of an innocent on Wakefield Bridge-"  
  
"I condemned Clifford for that!" She screetched. "Rutland was not meant to die-"  
  
"That was why you severed his head! That was why you displayed it on the walls of York!"  
  
"He was still a traitor-"  
  
"He was innocent! Unlike your son madam, unlike your bastard son. Yes, your spawn with Somerset."   
  
"You believe such rumours?" She hisssed, more looking to Lisbet for confirmation of her innocence than to me.   
  
"Why should we not? After all, am I not the bastard son of archer?" Men laughed as I held my hands up in jest. "Such is about as likely. Though, my father, the Duke of York was not impotent I hear. He was not witless as your husband is. He was not so ill of mind and weak of stomach that he could not find the marital bed, much less know what he should do in it-"  
  
"That is enough." Lisbet whispered, her hand gripping my arm. "Edward, enough." 

I had been ready to fall silent. Ready as Marguerite spoke, as her words left her mouth even. "Elizabeth." Beside me Lisbet froze, moving only as my fingers ran lightly over her hand, reminding her of my presence. "Your own mother can prove his jest to be true. Why, why did you marry a man you knew to be a fraud? A bastard son of an archer. Did Jacquetta not tell you? Where is she to declare it? She was Rouen, she can say he is not the son of the Duke of-"

 

"Madam you doubt my mothers integrity, and the integrity of the lady Jacquetta. As I hold no such doubts, and no reason to hold any doubts. I do not find myself victim to your pathetic pleas-"

 

"Elizabeth." My wife moved sharply back as Marguerite moved forward, reaching for Lisbets hand. With little success, the. bitch addressed me once more. "You doubt my husbands ability to get me with child... As I hear there is no doubt as to your own ability. Indeed, your success is renowned from here to France and I am sure further afar. As it ever has been. Your reputation for many things is indeed great, but not your reputation for fidelity."

 

"Madam I grow tired-"

 

"Your success has not always been in the marital bed-"

 

"I have bastards, indeed one is here today." My gaze found Arthur, the boy now almost ten sat in the nearest window seat, flanked by his nurse. "That is not my shame-"

 

"It is if one is not a bastard, and indeed you have had much success in all except your marital bed-"

 

"That is enough." I snapped. 

 

"I would not be surprised if your wife had, through your many infidelities your wife chose another lover to satisfy her needs, indeed then your marriage and indeed your succession would be a sham-"

 

"I've heard enough." Elizabeth stood. 

 

For a moment I did not move. The thought of Nell, of the woman I had so long forgotten, firmly in my mind, I had frozen. 

 

How could she know? She surely could not? 

 

Unable to move, to breathe for a moment. Only a moment until Lisbet's hand had roused me, as with force she slapped Marguerite. "How do you dare? Do you not see your cause is lost? That you lie fruitlessly for nothing more than bitterness-"

 

"And that is why she does is Lisbet." I had before then never so publicly slipped in my formality, never spoke her name so informally before so many men. Yet she had turned. "Her cause is lost and her words, they are harmless, meaningless. The words of a bitter whore, shamed for all she is too publicly. Do not let her phase you with that which is not true." 

 

I had heard the intake of breath. Seen Will's glance to me, see the clarity within his eyes, yet he said nothing. "Now, you are dismissed. I will not be troubled with your presence again. You are from here to be taken to the tower, where you will remain, kept well but at my mercy. Now, I take my leave." 

 

I did not wait. Will followed me as I left the hall, he did not have chance to speak, for not minutes later, Lisbet had joined me and the door to my bed chamber slammed closed. 


	61. Chapter 61

Will had learnt with sufferance the costs of being in the position of he most trusted by a king. He had looked verily like a man stricken by the wrath of god as he had returned from the tower, Henry's blood invisible on his hands. As invisible as it was on my own, for Will had given the order, stood witness at my command. Never had I seen him so quiet as that night, as we had sat in silence where otherwise we may have spoken. I recall with ease the only utterances made that night. Made by myself, as he had offered nothing more than a curt nod in response.   
  
"I'd have you know  that I would not have had it if it did not need to be so." I had muttered before the crackling fire. My words I saw did not make him less sick, did not make this rest better within his conscience.   
  
Yet Will had not needed me to justify myself for his loyalty to be proven. He would not have denied me this necessity, no matter how heavily it sat with him.   
  
Yet George, he was never a man for which the same could have been said. His sense of honour was ever about as present as it is with a cat. Switching its loyalties to meet the flow of fortune, and ever his own master, he was determined to gain profit from each and every damned source. That was why one day I had been startled away from the cards I played with mother by Richard's shouts as he barged into my solar unannounced. "I would have you speak with him Ned! Else I might kill him!" He flung his hat, beginning to pace before his eyes had fixed on our mother as she sat silent, staring at him. "Lady mother, please forgive me, except I could not contain it-"  
  
"Clearly, you have demonstrated as much, Richard. Have I not taught you better than to let your emotions show so plainly?"   
  
"And perhaps they would not but... Christ Ned! Talk sense into our brother."  
  
"Sense?" I laughed, seeing already my jest would fall flat. "I have tried, lord do you not think I have until I am blue in the face? And yet it is impossible! George does not have sense and cannot gain it. For if he had, he'd have had sense enough to smother me at Middleham."   
  
"Now is not the time, do you think with seriousness ever?" Dickon snapped.   
  
"I do not know what the problem is Dickon. I cannot swear to solve it if all I get is that I must talk sense into brother George, a hard enough task if I did not have need to be a mind reader too-"  
  
"You released Anne Neville into his custody for her safety."  
  
"This about a woman?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips.   
  
"She is not a woman.-"   
  
"Last I saw, she had the features of-"  
  
"Edward!" Mother scolded.   
  
"I forget sometimes I am delicate company." I smirked, feeling mothers glare without looking. I waved a dismissive hand, getting to my feet. "Now Anne Neville, buxom little creature, what of her. Other than you wish to know her-"  
  
"God for a moment do not be a leacherous prick!" Dickon rolled his eyes as I held up my hands in mock defence. "He will not let me see her."  
  
"That dear brother is George's prerogative,  
what exactly do you wish I do? Order George to let you see the lady-"  
  
"Yes. That's exactly what you're going to do."   
  
"Going to?" I raised an eyebrow, seeing he would not back down, I continued. "If I do, as I do not have to, what would you do if the lady says she does not wish to see you? What if that is where George's motivation comes from-"  
  
"Do you hear yourself?" Dickon snapped. "That is as implausible as the idea that you may be faithful!"   
  
I grinned, much to my company's joint disapproval. "If that is the basis of your point, I might say well made."   
  
"I won't thank you." Dickon sounded disgusted, though that soon dissolved back to anger. "What has he done with her? The swine-"  
  
"Richard." Mother spoke with quiet authority. "You will not call your brother such. Not in my presence."   
  
Dickon didn't respond, not to mother, instead his next words were aimed at me. "If she will not see me, then that is fine."  
  
"I am so glad to hear it." My tone was filled with sarcasm. Richard frowned at me as I knelt on the carpets, lavishing attention upon the mutt which lay sprawled in the sun.   
  
"I am glad this matter has your fullest attention." My brother snapped. "You do not know what she means to me do you?"  
  
"You have feelings for the girl. As much I figured as you looked at her like a besotted pup in the palace grounds. In truth it was rather sickening."   
  
"Says the man who married for love." Dickon and I both glared as mother muttered, offering only the most radiant smile which only she could pass.   
  
"What is it you want me to do Richard? Order George to bring her to court? Take her into my own household. Name it Dickon and I shall see if it can be done, but I must know your intentions. I cannot accuse our brother, a royal duke, of harming the girl because you merely suspect it."  
  
"Tell him... No. Make tentative enquiries of her health." I sighed. "Then if he asks why, tell him I do intend to marry her."   
  
I almost choked, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "He will not like that."   
  
"He will call me a fool." Dickon said, uncaring. "He will ask why I did not marry her when Warwick gave me chance, why I did not defy you... If all I wished was to marry her."  
  
"And why did you not, of interest?"  
  
"Because loyalty means more to me. Because Ned, because I would not have defied your order, and does that not prove love more? That through it all..." He broke off, shaking his head as he realised he had let too much of his emotion show. "I wouldn't expect you'd understand. As for George he will not like it, not least because I'd secure some of his wealth."  
  
"It is not his wealth." I offered.  
  
"You as well handed it to him when you offered him protectorship of Anne."   
  
"Richard." My voice was calm. Quite ominously so if I recall. "You are dismissed. I will think on your... Proposal, and it's implications. Do not seek to criticise me so openly. I sometimes think the fondness I afford you allows you to forget to whom you speak." Dickon's mouth  opened, though words did not emerge before he slammed it closed again, spinning on his heels before he was away.  
  
The door had barely shut before mother spoke. "I remember a boy, about his age." She said quietly, collecting cards from the table she now stacked too neatly. "A boy who was besotted with a woman, a woman so thoroughly unsuitable. One he married against all judgement, and now he would defend that decision, and in the face of it he would challenge his brother for feeling this way, and for what? Ned, you as much as any other is capable of bad judgement. Whilst I would not wish to accuse one son above another? I think on this, Richard may be right. I would not see the girl harmed and all for George's gain. Dickon's intentions are honourable, of that I am sure. The girl has been through much. Do not force her to endure this too, simply because you know not what to do with her."  
  
"And if George will not give her up?"   
  
"Then Edward, she should never have been in his care to begin with. That is a burden you must bare. I will pray to God that it is not to come to that." With those words, she left me alone. 


	62. Chapter 62

  
Windsor Castle, Christmas 1471

George, the stubborn fool, had not relented. Lord knew I had tried. Lord knows I endured far too much of Richard's foul temper. How he had stormed too frequently into my chambers, not caring whom or what he did interrupt. I had, after a degree of pestering, submitted to Dickon's will, if only to speak with George about Anne. If only to see if Richard's increasingly paranoid thoughts that George was indeed trying to steal the Neville inheritance in its entirety for himself, thus robbing young Anne of her fortune. Yet George had given me nothing, he had not heeded me, not at first. That was why I had taken leave of the court that Christmas. With tensions rising between George and Richard, I had found myself almost choked by my own thoughts, My mind imploding upon itself as mumbles had become shouts.

That was when I had left. That was when without so much as a word I had risen from my seat at this so awkward gathering of my closest friends and I had left. Left, drawing more than enough attention to myself.

"Papa!" Bess's voice rang from the stairs behind me. Ordinarily I may have scolded her as she ran down the icy stairs two at a time. I may have warned her not to be so reckless, that she might break her neck. Yet I did not, I hardly moved as she charged toward me. I hesitated to pull her into an embrace as she snuggled under my arm, nuzzling my hand with her cheek. Her indication she wished my attention. Her indication she wished I lift her into my arms. Yet I did not. "Papa, mother is worried about you. Uncle George told her to not follow you, that you wished to be alone. Yet she did not listen. At least I thought she did not, she left the room and she looked wrath with you, or uncle George, but then ma mere does not like uncle George and..." She trailed off, looking at my face. "I think nor do you."

"It is not about whom I like or do not Bess." I murmured. "Besides, I love your uncle George, right now I just cannot stand him."

"I don't see why." Bess mused, pulling on my sleeve in another attempt to be lifted from the floor. Another message which I ignored as I stood, staring blankly at the frosted gardens. "He brought me sweet meats, he is my friend even if he is not yours." I laughed at that, looking at her as she grinned.

"Are you so easily bought Bessy?"

"I do not call it easy. You did not bring me sweetmeats." She pretended to sulk, dropping pretences as I lifted her finally, she wetted my cheek with a kiss.

"That is because, you bratty child, I see you every day. It does not need to be Christmas for me to bribe you with sugar." She hid her face in my doublet. "Now that I know your loyalties are so fickle, seems I wasted my own coin." She grinned as she looked at me.

"You got me a gift?" Her arms flapped excitedly as I nodded. "Is it like the ruby necklace you bought ma mere? I want one like that! I want one that looks as beautiful as mother's does! She looks so... Does she not just look radiant?" She smiled, waving frantically as she looked over my shoulder, the only warning I would have as Lisbet approached.

"Husband." Her tone was gentle, though I detected irritation. "Are you well? Hastings said I would find you here."

"Did he? Arse." I murmured.

"Arse!" Bess replied gleefully, she grinned as her mother frowned. It was a moment of silence, awkward, intolerable silence before Bess waved frantically toward the stairs. I turned, seeing Cecily on the floor, eyes streaming with tears.

"Christ alive Lisbet these children are trying to kill me." I handed Bess to her as I whispered. I regret the words. I regret saying such stupidity, as now I know Cecily comes to see me so often these nights. Against all advice. As I try to sleep I hear her mutter prayers for my life. Prayers themselves sinful as she begged her death in my stead. Anything for me to live... She has changed, so very much.

Lisbet had looked at me, eyebrow raised as I raced toward little Cecily, lifting her from the patch of ice on which she had slipped. "Pa." she whispered through her sobs, arms outstretched as I held her to me.

"Shhh it's fine sweeting. Why were you out of the palace? Hmm?"

"Pa.. Pa." she murmured, pulling my hair as she clambered up, wiping her tears on the velvet of my doublet. She hid her head Will came down the stairs.

"Ne- my lord I tried to stop her but she slipped my grasp. " Will spoke softly. I did not say a word. Only looked at him, nodding eventually. "There was a reason I came out, I would not have sought to disturb you-"

"And yet you did." I whispered, stroking Cecily's hair as I rocked her in my arms, soothing her cry.

"It is George and Richard."

"For the love of God." I growled. "Are they still at their bickering? Do they not desist? Never?" Will shrugged, I sighed. "Come Cissy." I kissed my daughters head as she began to murmur. "We shall go now and bring the weight of England down upon their shoulders."

***

Cecily was still in my arms as I entered the solar. George stood by the fire, Dickon paced, his eyes hard and dark as pebbles. I knew they caught breath, for their faces were red in equal parts. George I saw was seething at whatever wild accusation Dickon had last chosen to throw in his direction. In the cradle I heard a scream. One which had gone unattended as all eyes remained on my brothers. Indeed I do not think they had noticed my existence, much less my presence until my curse came out as a shout as I handed Cecily to my mother. "Gods bones! The both of you! I will not have this!" My attention soon turned to my sons startled nurse maid. "As for you, I have mind to dismiss you without reference! Why is my son screaming unattended?" I marched to the cradle lifting him out, sighing as he silenced. "Anyone would think I am a  
myself a nursemaid not King of a Kingdom. Though to think, one could be easily mistaken when they see my brothers behaviour."

"Ned-" Dickon started.

"Do not, you are to both come with me." I walked from the solar, taking them without pause to my own chambers, young Edward still very much in my arms. It was not until George had passed through the door that I began. "You will resolve it now, and to my satisfaction else I'll put you both in the tower at my pleasure, do not think for one moment I am making jest. You both very much test my patience these last months-"

"He." George began. "Accused me of murder."

"You did not prove you have not-"

"It is absurd!" George growled in Dickon's direction.

"Absurd how so?" Dickon's voice was dangerously quiet. "You bring your household in its entirety to court, yet where is Anne to show for it?"

"You obsess over that woman as though she is your wife!" George growled. "I'd have thought you of all would be glad to see Lancastrian widows held in their place."

"I do not take pleasure in anyone's unnecessary suffering."

Edward cooed in my arms, his tiny legs kicking my arm, though I barely noticed.

"Do you know what he said to me Ned?" George half laughed, though I saw it was with disbelief in place of humour.

"'No, I surely was not there but certes you will fill me in."

"Yes. He claims I want the Neville inheritance as my own. In its entirety. That is why I keep the lady Anne closested away."

The words were received by silence. I saw Dickon look to me, as though he demanded my judgement on the matter. No doubt he did.

"Where is the evidence that this is not true George?" I murmured, taking a seat at last in an old chair. With care I placed Edward on the floor, eyes on him as he began to crawl in every direction.

"You believe it-"

"I do not believe anything! I am exploring the possibilities! God damn it if you cannot resolve this between yourselves then it seems I must, and so I must have facts to make judgement upon! Where is Lady Anne?"

"She remains at Warwick Castle. She did not wish to join the Christmas celebrations-"

"He would not let her! I do not believe she is at Warwick castle Ned."

"And your belief?" I raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "Is that George tries to take an inheritance that does not yet exist? Unless I am much mistaken Warwick's widow is very much alive."

They both fell silent at that.

"What are your intentions with the lass Dickon?" I murmured. "If I order George bring her to you, what will be achieved?"

"I would wed her." I leant forward at that. Whatever words I was about to say were stolen as the crash interrupted us. Edward, in all his curiosity, had pulled the crown from its stand, and with it the table had crashed down beside him.

"Jesus." I was to my feet, Richard beside me as we cleared the room. It was me who reached the babe first, kneeling as I tried to take the crown from his hand. Not before he had lifted the circlet to his head. Soon the gold dropped over his face, balanced on his tiny nose a moment. Long enough I smiled as he gargled happily.

"Yes." I whispered. "One day this will be yours. One day you will be King."

Within a moment Richard had snatched the crown from him, putting it back upon the table he had stood. His look was blank as he left the room with speed. The door slammed behind him.

 


	63. Chapter 63

Bess had squealed all too happily as I had given her the necklace with emeralds inset. I remember the sound now, remember it as clearly as I see the necklace round her neck. "It is even better than mothers!" She had squealed, flapping her arms too excitedly as she had rushed around the room. Her delight had faded as she reached Dickon. "Uncle Dickie! Look!"

 

"Yes Bess." He muttered, petulantly as he glowered at George. George who irked me to the core, yet George who had knelt and excitedly helped put it around Bess's neck. George who in that moment was smirking back at Dickon. "I believe I saw it as you showed the others. I am sure it is just as beautiful as it was then. Perfect, for the perfect princess." He couldn't muster even an ounce of enthusiasm. 

Not even as I offered him a warning glare from where I sat, with Mary and Cecily each on my knee. Mary I recall had at some point that night begun to tie little bows in my hair. Little bows which had been knots which Hastings had laughed as he helped me remove. Maybe that was why she was giggling gleefully, patting my head as she climbed onto my shoulders. 

 

"Papa." Bess had gone quiet as she came to me, pulling my arm, I knew she wished for me to hold her. I sighed, pulling her onto my knee before I felt her tears. "Is it not beautiful?" 

 

"Of course it is. Isn't it Richard?" I prompted, seeing him roll his eyes, he responded as my eyes hardened.

 

"Yes Bess." 

 

"Am I not beautiful then?" Bess whispered to me alone before her eyes closed. I felt her body shake as she sobbed. 

 

"Christ." I whispered, signalling to Lisbet to take the children before I stood. "You." I growled to Richard. "You'll come with me. Now."

 

He did not get chance to refuse as I gripped his arm, pulling him from the room, ignoring Bess's shout for me as I left the room. We were hardly on the corridor when I began. "What the hell was that?" My voice was dangerously low.

 

He shrugged. "I did not think I had need to bounce for joy Ned, she had shown everyone. Twice."

 

"She is barely six years old Richard! When you were six years old, I remember you were much the same only over a lead figure! I did not shrug you off though I did not much care!" 

 

"So you expect I humour her because she is a princess and dote over her because she is your daughter?" He sounded unimpressed. 

 

"No." I snapped. "I expect you to humour her because she is your niece Richard! I expect you to care because she is your brothers daughter!" 

 

"Yes? Very well. Are we expected to care now for all our kindred?" I froze at that, my hand still on the cold stone window ledge. 

 

"Dickon I am tired of this-"

 

"Tired of my protests? Because they are against George? Because you have evidence they are untrue? Because you do not believe my intentions are honourable or because you do not wish to be the one who confronts it?"

 

"Tread carefully Dickon." I spoke slowly, quietly. My patience dwindled, I felt the anger in my stomach. Tried to calm it when he pushed too far. 

 

"No." He shouted, lashing out at the wall as his palm slapped it in the way I knew he wished he could slap me. His head was dipped and he panted when I looked back. "You're sweeping this under the carpet! You're ignoring it! Why? Have I wronged you so much? Has she?"

 

"She is Lancasters widow-"

 

"My god do you not think I know that?" His voice was high. "She did not want to be his wife!"

 

"And I suppose you were there and know that? Unlike George-"

 

"George does not know anything except what suits his fancy, and he does not know Anne! She would not have married Lancaster unless it was by force!"

 

"Says the boy who denied Warwick's guilt."

 

_Worthless, harmful toad..._

_  
_

I froze hearing the words as though they were from Edmunds mouth. I was almost sick. My skin lost colour, I knew from my reflection, though Dickon did not note it. 

 

"Boy?" Richard scoffed. "Boy? Am I not a man?"

 

"Not whilst you behave as you do." I hissed. 

 

In the courtyard below I saw Edmund, looking up at me, still very much alive. As I blinked he had not gone away. Instead he stood still, looking. Richards words made me jump. 

 

"How I behave? You talk like you are the source of all responsibility." I had been about to talk. "No! Let me continue, for once in your life shut your mouth." I did not say a word, though anger filled me, Edmunds voice grew louder. 

 

_Insolent brat, silence him. Kill him. Kill him. He will kill you Ned. Brat. Unwanted. Unneeded._

  
"No." I spoke to Edmund not Richard, but it was Richard who responded. 

 

"Yes." He snapped. "You act as though I should follow your influence and hang upon your every word and action, and yet you do not see when you have got it wrong. Today, Edward, in your chambers." 

 

"What of it?" I muttered, rubbing my temple. 

 

"Edward could have been hurt. So instead of scolding the boy for pulling upon himself a relic? You praise him!" 

 

"He did not harm." I retorted. "Besides you snatched it straight off him with a speed I would have expected from George."

 

"Except you couldn't have expected George to put the crown back! Yet you expect he will give Anne Neville back? He is greedy to the core and-"

 

"And you had no right to touch that crown." Lisbets voice was filled with fury as she charged toward us. "Nor my son." Her eyes told me all I needed to know, I remained silent as she continued. "Now leave us brother." She said the last word with animosity. "I must speak with my husband, alone." Dickon did not pause a minute, he was gone within a second. "Explain. Quickly." 

 

"You were spying on me?" I muttered.

 

"No." She pushed Bess toward me, Bess whose cheeks were still streaked with tears. "Your daughter wanted to see you. Their nurse is wanting them to retire to bed now and so I said she could wish you bon nuit before she sleeps." 

 

I knelt, taking Bess in my arms. "Do not cry Bessy, uncle Dickon is just upset. You are the most beautiful princess in all of Christendom." 

 

"You really mean that?" I nodded.

 

"You and your sisters are like angels. Now sleep my sweet girl." I kissed her head, rubbing her hair as she grinned. I would check on her later that night, to be greeted by shrieks and giggles as they tickled one another mercilessly. There I would spend several hours, losing my stress in their company. Yet in that moment, I could hardly focus as Bess planted a sloppy kiss on my nose. "Good night papa." I heard her muttering to her nurse as she skipped away. "You know my papa is king no? But he still gets told off my ma mere." She giggled at whatever her nurse whispered. 

 

"Christ Bet. Did you need to make it so-"

 

"You chose to discuss your business in the halls. Do not then blame me. You left our infant son unsupervised?" 

 

"I was watching-"

 

"Clearly not closely enough." She muttered 

 

"He was not hurt."

 

"This time." She snapped. "He is prince of Wales Edward. Not the son of one of your doxies. Arthur he-"

 

"Do not use Art against me! You love that child-"

 

"Yes! And he is not going to be King. When you took that boy, and no one expected you to do that Ned, you took responsibility. I should not have to tell you that."   
  


 


	64. Chapter 64

  * By January I had heard enough of their bickering. Has endured enough of Richard's foul mood. That was why on the third day of that month I called George to my presence chamber. "Brother." His voice was overly cheerful as he strutted in, his smiling fading a little as he saw me look up from papers, dropping the glasses from my nose. "Your vision is failing brother?"

"That's not why I called you here." I spoke quietly, levelly.

"No. I do suppose you wouldn't concern me with matters of importance."

"Do not be pathetic. That I need glass to read is hardly a matter of importance, it's merely a bloody inconvenience. I have not lost my arm, nor had a fit of apoplexy nor might I add have I contracted the plague, so if you don't mind I'll dictate what is important." George held up his hands to that, rolling his eyes. "And enough of the attitude."

"Why did you call me in here?" He sounded bored. Thoroughly bored.

"It is about Anne-"

"God alive not you as well!" He exclaimed, my eyes widened, though I did not scold him. "I haven't had a moments peace from Dickon! Not one moments god damned peace. I curse Anne Neville's name he is so adamant! He won't give me a moment to breathe-"

"Maybe you do not deserve it." I snapped before I could control myself.

"You're taking his side on this?"

"I'm taking the side of justice-"

"Don't make me sick." George snapped. "You're taking his side-"

"I am concerned for Anne-"

"Did you say that when you chose to hand her to me-"

"No, that is not how it happen-"

"Say as you please, Dickon won't believe you." He almost gloated.

"You'll bring her to London and from there-"

"I will not."

"I'll put this more simply." I smirked, dangerously. "You bring her to London, or I will tear Warwick apart to find her." He did nothing but stilled his pace. "Brick by fucking brick George, I'll tear that castle down." He looked at me, shaking his head.

"Why does she mean so much?"

"I don't know George, I was rather hoping you yourself could answer that?"

"I meant to the two of you." He snapped.

"And I meant to you."

"Do me the dignity of answering first."

"Fine. She's so damned important George because I cannot cope with this!" I stood, he jumped back as I did it was so sudden. "You wanted me to tell you what's important George? Well here it is, I will break if I hear another fucking argument between you and Richard."

"I-I-" he stammered.

"No George! I'm serious."

Hurt him...

Edmunds words made me wince.

"You want her?"

"I want to know why she means so much to you George." I tried to bring calm to my voice. "Why? If you do not want her money?"

"You want her? Fine. You've got her. She's yours."

"Dickon wants her."

"Fine." He snapped. "Fine."

"Why does it anger you?"

Because he's a swine... He will kill you, and Edward and-

I shut Edmund from my mind, my hand slamming down on the table in a fist.

"Ned are you-"

"My head hurts."

"Ned-"

I rubbed my temples, closing my eyes to blot out the visions before they came. Before I knew they would come. "Just go."

"Ned no-"

"I said go. George. Leave me. And George." I saw him pause by the door. "You bring her to me or my god, I'll find her myself." I heard him open the door, heard it close behind him. Only then did I give in to my head, only then did I clear the table of its contents with one movement.





	65. Chapter 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long, I'm sorry

March 1472 Windsor Castle I recall when Hobbes was first alerted to my condition, though he said nothing at the time.

Edward was in my apartments, toddling slowly, though often he fell. Hobbes was present, discussing with Will the latest figures of medical expenditure and Will? Well he was present because he had said, he did not wish to miss a moment of this precious boys progress. In truth, Edward my sweet boy had become a bundle of joy. Often making those with him laugh, at eighteen months old, he had learnt enough words and tricks to make those around him howl with laughter. Yet walking, that was not his strongest pursuit and so, each time he toddled through my chambers, Will would be there to cheer him on. “Bon garcon!” As I heard the clapping, I was this time reminded that it was not Will who cheered on my son, but the only woman I loved perhaps as much as my own mother. “Edward!” She was not as energetic as I had once recalled her being. Did not have the same spring in her step, but as she knelt on the floor, arms outstretched to my son as he ran toward her, I could not help but long for times now distant in my past. “Bravo!” She cheered as he stumbled into her arms, giggling. “Beau enfant.”

“Nursey.” I murmured, my eyes closed. “You spoil him.” I knew she looked at me, knew she smiled. I heard Edward squeal as she picked him up with her as she stood. By the time my eyes opened, she was kissing his cheek repetitively as she giggled, all arms and legs flapping. “I think your papa is jealous.” Her tone was high as she began to tickle my son, his giggles became shrieks of laughter.

“No! No! Papa!” He looked to me, hands clutching as though he would grab me from across the room. He gurgled as within seconds I had saved him from the attack he soon wanted back. He clung to me only a moment.

“Jealous of what?” I smirked, kissing nursey’s cheek.

“You miss my attention.” She smiled, kissing back, her hand still on my arm as I stood properly, throwing Edward up in the air and catching him, smiling as he squealed happily. I knew Lisbet would scold me, knew she would be glaring if she could see me. That was why as I caught him the third time, I kissed his head, pulling him close to me.

“I do not miss your attention.” I said finally. “And I still have your affection.”

“You have my affection, yes.” She grinned as Edward, in my arms, now reached for her as I began to tickle him. “But this little boy? He has my heart.” She snatched him from my arms.

I looked to Hastings as he laughed, his gaze was on her. This was a woman he knew well, a woman he had met many times. Anne of Coax, or Lady Anne d’Coax as she had been so adamant Edmund and I call her, was our governess at Ludlow, and in Rouen. A woman who, whilst I may have feared in my infancy, now heaped affection upon children more than George drank wine. “That boy has the hearts of every woman in England I do not doubt.” I murmured quietly, ruffling his hair as he stuck his tongue out at me. “And every man also.” Will smiled as he approached. “May I Lady Anne?” She handed him over as I nodded. Will, on cue with the idea to wind up his superiors blew on Edward’s belly, laughing as my boy once again giggled, clinging to Will’s beard with a strength I knew would hurt. Though he did not show it, not even as he span around, Edward’s little legs flying outwards as he did.

“He is much like you were.” Nursey sounded tired. “I remember when you had such beautiful blond curls. So beautiful a little boy that many in France thought you were a girl.” She laughed at that. “So fair and bonny girl.” That is what they would say when I took you out to market, as you demanded.” She smirked. “That was until they saw you with your lord father.” She sighed. “You have changed since then.” “Much has.” I offered her an arm, walking her to the settle before I seated myself next to her. “You are not as small, yet I am sure you are as stubborn.” Her hand rested on my arm as I grinned. “Do you remember, Edward, before you left for St Albans? I had myself made up a package for you, of food. Yet you had been so eager to impress your cousin, Richard, that you had refused it in your stubbornness. You would not let me even wipe the dirt from your cheek. Told me you were an adult!” She whooped with laughter. “And you looked so tiny. I knew you would be tall but next to Richard, next to your father too you looked small in your armour.” She took a breath, thought on what she was saying. “I never much did like Richard Neville. And I comforted Edmund by telling him so, he was not happy you left him to go to St Albans.”

“You had to comfort him?” I raised an eyebrow.

She nodded, continued. “I gave him sugared almonds, and marchpane to stop him burning your favourite cloak. You probably would have changed your mind about the food if I had told you about sugared almonds no?” I nodded. “And if I know you at all…” She trailed off, getting up she left the room for several moments before she came back, in her hand a small bag she tossed to me. “You still would not say no.”

I did not have chance to open it bag, though in truth I did not need to. Yet whatever she had been about to do, nursey did not move as I dropped the silk purse onto the cushion beside me, my eyes slamming closed.

Useless, worthless, you over me, always you, chosen one, die.. “Edward.” Nursey had sounded concerned, had run to me, sitting beside me, though I barely felt her touch me. Across the room Edmund stood again, eyes hollow as he looked at me.

Poisoned, even nursey wants you dead… “Edward.” She said again, this time she shook hard enough to bring my attention to her. “You are not well.” She whispered.

“I am fine.” I knew she was not convinced. “I think just ate bad food last night.”

“I am well.” Will shrugged as he spoke. “We ate the same.”

“Hmm? Did we? Oh. Then perhaps I just am tired, my head is sore and..” I looked to Edward as he whined, suddenly beginning to cry, his eyes fixed on the spot where Edmund stood. “Edmund?” I whispered, that was all it took. Will raised his eyebrow, stepping away toward the door before he summoned my sons nurse.

“Take the Prince back to the nursery.” He whispered. By the time he had returned, Hobbes too was crowded around me.

“I am fine.”

“Edmund, you said Edmund.” Hobbes whispered. “Your grace recalls-“

“I know he is dead, I know.” I did not snap, I could not. “It is this illness, perhaps it is worse than I did think. With us speaking of him and-“ I winced, eyes wide as I saw smoke begin to fill the room, felt burning beneath my feet. “You are to bed. Now.” Nursey ordered, pulling me to my feet. “No doctor.” She spoke to Hobbes as she marched me toward my bed chamber. “I shall attend him. I think I know enough of what to do to attend him, and if I do not? I will send for you. Now Edward, you will sleep.” She did not give me room to question on the matter. Not as she took me to my bed, closed the curtains around me and folded my clothes as I threw them to her. Not as she blew out the candles. Not as she sat in the rooms furthest corner.

***

"Madam." Will's voice was a whisper. I do not know how long I had sat there, silently rocking. Perhaps it had been five minutes, perhaps five hours, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like this, whatever this was, was indeed purgatory itself. If it was not hell.

"My Lord Hastings." Nursey spoke quietly, as Edmund and I had heard her so do many times as she spoke to our parents, pretending she had not heard our giggles as we pretended to be asleep.

"Do you need me to-"

"I can manage my lord. I did not think in truth I would be sitting for Edward now. Yet..." She broke off for a moment. Her voice was slightly louder and I heard a break as she spoke again. "You should lord Hastings." I knew he did, did not have to see him. "You saw how he was out there?"

"I saw little madam, my attention was on the prince. Though his gaze it was fixed-"

"His eyes, they were so vacant." I heard nails scrape on wood, knew she was digging them into the chair arms. "He was devoid of everything. He was not the Ned you know." She went on. "It sounds ridiculous, but I would not say what was not true. Not about him of all. I know him so well and yet, I never thought I'd see that look again."

"You have seen it before?" Will sounded worried.

"Yes. He will neglect to tell you I am sure but he did not respond well to what happened at St Albans."

"He barely saw a thing, except..." Will did not need to say that I had aided Henry, the old fool now dead in a vault.

"He ran away. You will remember that?"

"I remember something of it, though his graces father never honoured me with the details. All I knew was his panic-"

"Edward, in his stupidity ran away into the Herefordshire hills. God knows what he did there. But when he came back, he was cold, he was wet and he was frightened. He took a chill, and a bad one. Or so I thought." I knew she shook her heard, heard her feet tap as she began to walk. "His eyes were glazed over and he did nothing but sway in his bed. I thought him likely to die. With all... He was not a healthy child. Too many complaints and... I digress." She stopped close to my bed I knew. I was now still as I listened to their words. "When his father got words from him they were senseless. His brother Edmund, he said, had tried to kill him. Put a pillow over his head. Was in the Crofts purse. He hated those boys, because they roughed him up too many times. I thought boys were boys..."

"Boys are boys, Ned was sensitive-"

"Sensitive boys do not run away!" She snapped. "Lord Hastings you have not seen in his eyes a cold ability to murder as he disregards the feelings of others! Whatever has happened that is not Edward. When his eyes are like that, I cannot explain it. Edward is not in that body or mind. It is as though he is possessed. He did not care as Edmund tried to make it up to him, nor that he had driven his father half mad with fear. We all thought him dead. He did not mind. And Edmund? That sweet boy accepted what was said. The Crofts did not touch him after that and I thought it was over." I heard her voice crack as she began to cry. "You do not understand,I can see it in your fac-"

She did not finish. I had barely noticed the tears leaving my eyes. Had barely noted a thing until I heard myself almost choke, coughing before my body shook with sobs.

Edmund... I had... Jesus...

"Mon cherie." I heard nurseys voice close. Looked to see the curtain pulled back as she drew me into a hug. I pulled the coverlets around me. "Do not be so proud, I have seen a man before." She scolded me, stroking my hair gently. "Hush sweeting, hush."

"Shall I call the lady Cecily?" Hastings whispered to nursey.


	66. Chapter 66

"Bet." I whispered, kissing her head as she began to stir. "Darling." She kissed my chest, her eyelashes tickling as her eyes fluttered. "My love we must talk, wake up." I knew she obeyed as her fingers began to toy with the hairs on my chest.

"It is not like you to wish to talk, all you usually rouse yourself for at such an hour is to defile me." We had already been sinful, already I had lain with a woman with child. I felt the babe within her kick as a reminder he was alive. I suppose Lisbet did not expect my blush, sat up suddenly as she saw it. "Ned what is wrong? Something troubles you." 

"Not troubles, we just must discuss it." She waited for my elaboration. "It is about baby." I used her name for Edward. A name I was so desperately tired of, if for no other reason than Margaret's birth. 

"I do not think now is the time to discuss children, in bed." She offered, her fingers beginning to trail south before I caught them. Stopped her enticing of me. Though I smirked. 

"Is it not the bed in which it is most appropriate to discuss children?" I devoured her lips as she smiled. When I pulled away she placed her hands on my chest, pushing me flat to the bed as she straddled me, her full belly now on full view below her swelling breasts. I was almost distracted, more so by her words, though she could not be allowed to distract me. Not even as she placed my hands upon her bump. "If I recall Edward Plantagenet, if those are your terms? I think mayhap we should be discussing children anywhere. As we stand by the wall, as we pass through a door, sit on the floor, as we bathe. If my memory serves me, as I am sure it does, there is not a way which you have not got me with child."

"And you are thankful for that!" I laughed. 

"Yes." She slapped my chest playfully. "But I curse you too. If for once your tools could fail you, I might have a break." 

"And I give you plenty of breaks, merciful husband that I am. Yet you scorn every one of them." I winked, only for her to slap my cheek. I bit my lip to hide my smirk as I looked back to her. 

"What of baby?"

"He is old enough now, and strong enough too." I had to say little more. 

"Ned I would prefer to keep him here, with us. For some more months at least. Please? He was so late to walk and-"

"And now he runs. Now he is playful and boisterous and he disturbs the girls. Bessy says she does not get a minutes peace from him, so when she wants to study her books? She cannot. She does not mind it she says but Beth. It is for the best." She did not look certain. "Your mother herself tells me, he is not unlike how I was."

"What?" She looked at me.

"Yes. I was slow to walk, or talk or-"

"You, my mother also recalls were early. Baby was not."

"All the more reason to have him away. Beth he will grow more if he does not have you to stifl- check up on him." 

She did not pick an argument, instead exhaled. "Where do you propose sending him?" 

"We have options, but ettiquette dictates he joins an established household of an accomplished lord." I exhaled slowly. "Richard enjoyed his upbringing in Yorkshire. The air is cleaner and it would let the northerners know him. So for him to live with Richard in Middleham-"

"No." She snapped. 

"Why? He is accomplished of his own right, loyal, and there is not a man I would trust more-"

"No. I will not hear another word on it. No."

I sighed. "Then with George in Warwick-"

"I would rather die than have my son, your heir in George of Clarence's protection." She said the last word with an infliction of sarcasm. "I do not doubt he would vanish as Anne Neville did-"

"She has come out none the worse."

"And can you say you trust our son would fare the same?" I said nothing for a moment. 

"Then, I shall compromise." She crossed her arms over her chest, sparing modesty I knew she did not have around me. Modesty that told me she was angered. "With my mother in Fotheringhay." 

"I should laugh I am sure, because you are making jest?" 

"No. I am serious." 

"Then you are insane." She snapped. Clambering off me, she stood, reaching for her night gown. "Our son will not be sent to your mothers household."

"Then you leave me with no choice." I spoke quietly. "Tomorrow I shall inform Lord Hastings that he is no longer chamberlain and is instead to go to Ludlow to tutor baby." She glared then. "I'll have Anthony in the office of chamberlain instead and-"

"I would not deprive you of the man who gathers your harlots-"

"Beth! I protest-"

"Protest all you want." She sounded sulky. "You are as dependent on Will Hastings as a baby on a breast."

"Again! I protest!" 

She stuck out her tongue. "It would help my nerves greatly if Anthony was to be in Ludlow with our son. If he must go at all." 

"Anthony?" I half laughed . "And I am the one insane? Much as your sentiment is appreciated Lisbet, England will not accept it-"

"You mean your family will not." 

"They make up most of the peerage of England-"

"And conveniently, so do my enemies." She muttered. 

"Warwick would not have said that-"

"And that is why he is dead." She spoke coolly. 

"Lisbet, be careful what you say." I sighed. "You insist it will be Anthony?"

"Else he is not leaving my side." 

"Very well." I nodded. "I am content."

I was not... I was no more content than I knew mother would be. Yet that morning I did not show it. It would be over a week before she knew my true feelings and by then? She could do nothing to act.


	67. Chapter 67

**Shrewsbury, Shropshire  
August 16th 1473**

 

“Ned.” Lisbet's voice came into my hearing as she shook me hard, so hard I thought I may fall from the bed. “Edward.” She whimpered, pushing me so hard I this time did hit the floor.   
  
“Sweet-”   
  
“Get Katherine.” Through the dim light as my eyes adjusted, I saw her gripping the sheets, rocking.

  
“Katherine?” I asked, standing I rested a hand on her arm.   
  
“Don't ask questions.” She half screamed. “Just get her!”

 

“Where-”  
  
“In the next room! Go! Now.” She climbed from the bed, her hand on her stomach as she slowly walked.   
  
“What is wrong?” I whispered, my hand on the door.   
  
“Do you need to ask so many questions? I will be fine, when you leave and get Katherine!” She hissed.

 

I did not hesitate then, leaving the room, and I did not return. Instead, once I had woken Katherine, I had crept through the inn, walking quickly, hammering on Hastings door. He did not say a word, did not have chance to as he opened the door with tired eyes, I pushed past him. “Come in, please, I insist.” He said sarcastically.

  
“Do not! I am in no mood.” I snapped, apologising quickly. “Will, forgive me, there is something wrong with Elizabeth.” He closed the door, putting a hand on my arm as he came close. “She threw me out, insisted I get Katherine-”  
  
“Her sister?”  
  


“Well she did not call your wife, did she?” I shook my head soon after saying it. “Sorry, yes, her sister.” He nodded. “Well she took one look and dismissed me again. Dismissed me?” I muttered, sitting myself in his chair.

 

He was silent a moment, then moved with speed, opening the door to the connecting room. “John, run quickly now, wake the mistress here, and find where the closest physician is.”   
  
“Physician?” I was suddenly alert again. Will said nothing until the boy had disappeared, the door closed behind him.

  
“Ned, I trust you are not so ignorant?” He lifted the candle from beside his bed, using it to light several more before he poured ale into a cup, handing it to me. “Drink that, you look as though you need it.”   
  
“I need to know what is wrong with my wife!” He did not say another word, pointing to the drink, tipping his hand in an order. He said nothing until I gulped down the liquid.   
  
“She is in labour Edward, is that not obvious?”

  
“No.” I muttered. “I said she should be in confinement. I told her so.” I shook my head. “I ordered she stay in London and she would not, said the child is not due for two months, that was two weeks past, granted but-”  
  
“Ned, you cannot control fate. This would have happened in London too, and so-”  
  
“So the pace we set-”  
  
“Ned.” He scolded. “Stop torturing yourself. You are as well to self flog.” He held my hand.

 

***  
  
The next morning, the situation had improved little. Will had tolerated my wakefulness for eight awkward hours. No sooner than dawn had broke had I sent servants to Beth's door for news, news which came back that she still had not delivered of a babe. “We must decide.” Will said, looking to little Edward as he toddled around the room, picking up every object in sight.   
  
“Father.” He handed me the items, putting them on my lap when I did not take them.

 

“Are we to progress to Ludlow, or wait?” He asked, looking to the men in the room, as though their opinions mattered.

 

“We wait.” I said, lifting Edward as he pulled on my sleeve. He took the cap from my head, putting it upon his own, covering his own face with it bringing from me a small smile as I kissed the back of his head.

 

“Ned-” Anthony spoke softly.

 

_Leave her, worthless whore, leave her._

 

My father's voice made me jump..

  
“I am not leaving her here!” I looked to Anthony,though I shouted to my father. “How dare you ask it.”   
  
Will's hand was thrust from my arm as he rested it there. “He did not-”  
  
“You have never liked her.” I said to Will. “Do not act as though you yourself have sympathy for me, or for her for that matter!” I grimaced as in my arms Edward wailed, throwing my hat as his hands began to flail. “I told her not to come.” I sighed.   
  
“She is a stubborn and defiant woman.” Will offered, casually as though he would calm me.   
  
“No, do not add what you are about to. She is not like every other woman, and do not try to deny what you are implying and insult me by saying it.”   
  
“Believe me Edward.” Will scoffed. “I did not intend to.” I scoffed.

 

“We leave her.” Anthony said, matter of factly. “We are no help to her, indeed we are a hindrance.”

 

 _Dead, he wants her dead, kill him, kill him, kill him._  
  
“No!” Edward cried in my arms, pulling away. Anthony raised an eyebrow, I pulled Edward closer, bouncing him gently. “Would you be saying that if she was your own wife? To return to her dead? She is your sister-”

 

“And he is right.” Will said. “I have left my wife many times, knowing I cannot help her. Ned she has all the hands she needs.”

 


	68. Chapter 68

Seventy two lashes with the Devils tongue... That was the price I was to pay for it. That was what my father had ordered for my sins. And so I had obliged, at least I had tried. I had managed thirty before the pain got too much to inflict them in rapid succession upon the sacred flesh of my royal body, forty before Will had entered the room, pulling from my hand the belt with which I had flogged myself. "Jesus Edward." He had whispered as he pulled me to my feet, holding me as my muscles refused to hold me. "Christ. Hobbes!" He shouted, seeing instead Peter. "Fetch Hobbes, now boy!" Will half pulled me to the settle. "Did you not think to stop when there was blood? And for what were you doing this? What deserves such brutal punishment?"

"Me." I half choked. "Me. I deserve it-"

"Ned-"

"No. My breathing deserves this. My breathing when Edmund is cold. Me taking the seat that should have been my fathers, and I should have died with them at Wakefield. Yet I could not even do that-"

"If another said that? It would be treason... Tell me why for you it should not be the same."

"Let it be then. Take me outside and strike my head from my shoulders-"

"Mary mother of Jesus, pray you help us." He looked at my back, glancing up as the door opened.

"My lord, you called for m-" Hobbes' voice trailed off, his eyes widening almost unnoticeable. "What happened your grace?" He would get no words from me as I rocked back and forth, Will's hands gripped my arms trying to stop me though he did not succeed.

Useless, worthless, swine. Father said.

Die, die, they want you to die. Die, failure, traitor, bastard. Edmund said.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." I whispered.

Hobbes was knelt before me, his hands took mine.

"He flogged himself, something of sin and beyond that? I am unsure." Will said, disgust in his voice. Disgust that stung more than a single lash I had inflicted.

He hates you. Hates you. Everyone hates you. Father barked in my head. Ruthlessly, hatred in every word.

Hobbes stood, encouraging me to my feet. "Come on Edward." His hand was on my arm, in the crook of my elbow, firm enough that when I pulled toward the belt Will had discarded on the floor, his restraint forced me to walk with him toward my bed. "Lay down." He ordered.

"No."

"Lay, down." He sounded strict.

He will kill you... Edward... Kill you...

Edmund warned. I shook my head, laying on my stomach as Hobbes pushed. "This will hurt." He offered before he tended each lash individually.

Weak. Your worthless, weak, useless...

My scream was not one of pain but one of frustration. I felt him dressing the wounds.

My attention however was diverted when the door of my bed chamber was flung open. "Edward!" I heard Hastings shout as he followed George into the room. "I tried to stop him."

"Edward I wanted to talk to you." George was jovial. Too much so. Though I barely noticed. My eyes fixed on fire place. Smoke came from the bare pit. Shadows clouded every corner of the room. Shadows expanding into the room, choking everything. "What happened?"I saw George's attention was suddenly on me.

When I did not answer Hobbes obliged. "Your brother has an old battle wound-"

"I do not remember it, from Barnet or Tewkesbury-"

"It is from neither." Hobbes lied.

"Towton?"

"Mortimer's Cross." Hobbes shrugged.

"Then I'm sorry it's giving you such trouble brother."

Lying turncoat traitor. Dick's voice filled my hearing. Kill him, kill him.

"Everything is well with me. I know you would ask if you were not in pain. So." George almost skipped around the room. "Isobel is pregnant. She has not announced it yet but I am sure." He almost squeaked with joy. "I wish to name him Richard."

"Richard?" I mused. "Hmm."

"After our father." I looked up at that. "He would be proud. So proud." George smiled, the last genuine smile I think I ever saw on him. "If he could see us now. You, achieving what he never could, us united."

"He wanted France." I muttered. "France which Henry lost." I shook my head.

"Wouldn't he be brimming with pride if we got it?"

I sat up, eyes wide.

"Then we shall."

I think they thought I was joking. I think they thought I was anything but serious, but to make my father proud, to impress the man who insulted me so privately? I would have done anything


	69. Chapter 69

Our journey to France had been swift, and despite the restlessnessI felt, my health was good. Charles had allied, agreed to bring troops to aid us in victory for a small cut of the profit. Such relief had been like music to my ears, until we arrived in France to a scene so different. Charles had then refused to send men to aid; his excuse that he must make war with others. We would have to fight this war alone. 

Of course I had known such was not possible. Without Burgundy's assistance, we were as well to flee to England once more, and await Louis' onslaught there. 

That was something I would have never been allowed to do. Instead, I had ordered that camp be set, speaking to no one as I had wandered from the chaos. 

Christ we would all be killed? That was what brought me to the tiny chapel, the old building ageing better than the pastor who sat within. "Monsieur." 

Perhaps it was rude. I did not notice he had spoken however, as I walked to the front of the church, kneeling before the alter, I was silent till he approached, sitting on the chair close to me. "You come to pray?" He whispered in perfect French. "For your peace I guess? When the English are close by?" He swallowed his words as I looked to him. 

"I pray for your peace, and my own, yes." I said finally, after moments of silence. How odd it was, how queer... I do not know if this was a divine intervention,a message from God, but in that church, my head was surrounded by silence. A silence which was peaceful. A silence so enticing I did in truth consider staying there. Considered taking up holy orders to stay within the confines of that chapel. "Though I somehow doubt we shall get it. Myself at least. You are a priest, you have nothing to fear father and so... well what will become of me? I have instigated this war and-"

"Your king has instigated this war, and the true sin lies with him." 

I did not correct him, only said. "You believe your king is innocent?"

"Is it not treasonous to say otherwise?" I shrugged. "Besides, it is your own king, Edouard who chose this war. Louis has only obliged unwillingly. It is your king who invaded-"

"Perhaps that is so." I whispered. "Does that damn m- my king to hell?"

"I would say, if I could, that from all I hear of him, to be said of this war? The damned need not to be condemned, for already their guilt is plain." 

I nearly choked. The silence remained, but in my hand, as it rested upon the copper beam, I felt burning. I recoiled from the alter. 

"Are you well Monsieur?" 

I did not respond a moment, the smell of. burning, of sulphur, of brimstone filling my nostrils. I almost stumbled, my stomach so weak I vomited. When I came back to my senses, the priests hand was on my back. "Come, sit. Do not worry for that, you are not well." 

"Not well?" I knew I would be pale. My skin was cold, though clammy. "I.. am sorry."

"No. Whatever is wrong with you?" I had never known a man who would approach so willingly an ill soldier. Though as a priest, I suppose he may not have known of the pestilence so rife in camps. He did not seem concerned for his own mortal life as he sat beside me. 

My voice was hoarse when I spoke. "I doubt you would believe me if I told you." 

"Confession is good for the soul." He rested a hand on mine. 

"Is it good when you sense the devils presence? When you see his tail flick, ready to grasp you and take you to his dungeon where forever you will stay?" 

The holy man had recoiled. 

"No." I smirked, sadly. "I did not think it was."

I stood, turning to the door just as it opened. "Your grace." Francis Lovell's voice had been the last I had expected to hear. "Duke Richard said I would find you." 

"Your grace?" The holy man spluttered, looking to me. 

"My name is Edward." I said. "It's been a pleasure speaking to you." 

He was white as snow as I left the chapel. Following Lovell back to the camp. 

"Are you okay?" Lovell whispered finally, as we reached the camp. He did not get an answer, did not hear a word from me as I entered my tent, moments later the voices screamed. Screamed so loud I feigned stomach pains, feigned illness from the travel before I climbed into my bed, pulling the blankets over my head.


	70. Chapter 70

"Your Grace." No sooner had I reached the camp than the messenger from Louis' camp found me, handing me the parchment from his master. I did not stop, reading it as I walked. That was until I understood the words. Louis had offered an ultimatum, he would not give us time, if we did not prepare to fight, or surrender, his troops would surround us, and then, we would die. That was a certainty. I ripped the parchment. Throwing it back at the man. "Tell him, tell him to wait. I will send word."

Send word that you will kill him. Swine. Stamp upon the spider. Kill him.

For once, Edmunds words mimicked my thoughts. Yet I did not have time  
to dwell on them. No sooner than Louis man had fled was Richard at my side. "Edward, I have been thinking."

Thinking to kill you. Thinking to take the crown from your bloody head.

I shook my head, shaking Edmund out, I hoped. Except as I did my father began.

Bastard. Worthless bastard, Edward.

"What?" I snapped to Richard, making him jump.

"Are you well?"

"I am fine."

He nodded, though I saw he did not believe. "I would like to lead the vanguard into battle."

"You may lead the centre for all I care."

***

Richard eyed me like a hawk that evening. We sat around the fire, each in conversation. Only outwardly I was silent. In my head the noises were persistent. Edmund and my father, Warwick and now some unknown would not cease their orders. Commands,demands and threats. Words which made paranoia fill me.

"Here's to victory." George, the fool that was George, stupidly, typically said. He did not see as I looked up. How my eyes apparently burned, dark like a man possessed. Will had seen, Will had tensed, yet he did nothing. He did not move. Only looked. Looked on, mesmerised. I thought perhaps he had seen the same, though he clearly had not. He did not see the devil rise from the fire. He did not see the flames spit out toward us. He did not see the smoke coming from every inch. He did not see as the world was sucked toward hell. He did not see Warwick, nor Edmund, nor my father, stepping into my sights and he did not hear the words shouted by Satan himself.

"Join me, join them, each of them."

"Shut up! No!" I cut through their conversation with a shout. George looked at me. Will had moved, now was by my side.

"Edward." Will whispered.

"He is well?" I heard Francis whisper to Richard, who ignored him.

"I'm fine." I muttered, pushing Will away.

"Ned, I-"

"I'm fine. Yes George, to victory, we will take back France."

George grinned. Nodding. Though I felt sick.

Lovell I fear did not see my expression. For he whispered to Richard, receiving my glare. "I remember, when lord Warwick would visit France. How he dressed so nice. How he reserved his court clothes. Why? He said it was because France was an important ally. Now look how things have changed?"

For a moment the only thing that made sound to them was the fire, whilst an over riding voice told me to slaughter him. "I do not think I can tolerate another word of this." I whispered to Will, getting to my feet. I looked to Lovell before saying loud enough he'd hear. "I think I'm going to be sick."

George the fool followed me. He did not think enough to know that he aught to leave me alone. "Brother, what troubles you?"

"You." I snapped, turning to look at him. "You trouble me. You all do! Each and every one of you, and I cannot stomach it a moment longer."

"Edward-" wills voice was severe as he joined us.

"No! He needs to know. He irks me to the core. Warwick? You know Lovell just reminded me George, your treachery and now I can't help but wonder. This was your idea? And what is it you hope to gain from it? Christ I bet you won't be content till Louis has my head... except you'd need to kill a small boy. George." I laughed, coldly. "I do not doubt you're capable of it, but able to do it? If you want me to burn in hell you must send me there yourself." I paused, seeing George look at me silently, his mouth slightly open. "Except you do not need to. A moment in your presence is worse than all of hells torments combined."

"Ned-"

"He needs to know Will."

"And you have made your point clear, you have exhausted it and I advise you to hold your tongue." Will barked, more an order than advice.

George said nothing. Only nodded before he stalked into the night. Will waited till he had gone before he spoke again. "What in Gods name was that?!" His shout must have been heard back at the fire.

"He-"

"No! You will listen to me, and listen now. Warwick? He is dead, and you pardoned George. Do not think to try and undo that. Clarence may be a terrible ally, but Jesus Ned, he is a more powerful enemy than perhaps you credit him for. Do not underestimate the fool, cause it is he who has the love of many and the master who holds the enmity." I scoffed. "Do not believe me then, but for the love of God, do not ignore me. Because I cannot always save you."

"I do not need saving. If I did? Who says I wish it would be you?"

"Then please, continue as you are."

I looked at him for a moment. Watching him pant. "Fuck off." I uttered, turning away. He did not try to follow me, did not do a damned thing as I punched the tree I past, did not follow as I entered my own tent, throwing myself on the bed. "Bastards, all of them. Bastards." I had half expected to hear objection, yet I heard none.

It was not until that night, when I had not realised I had slept, that I was awoken. Candles burnt on the table. It took several moments before I felt hands on my chest. I moved, hands pulled back. "Do not panic your grace."

"Hobbes? What in Gods name are you doing?"

"It was reported to me that you were in need of medical assistance-" he stepped back. "I see you were not aware."

"Not aware? Yes Hobbes, I seem to be aware don't I?" My voice was laced with sarcasm. "I can guess who put you up to this-"

"Lord Hastings told me you are acting strangely." He stepped forward, pausing as I raised a hand to block him.

"Do not touch me. You can ignore what he said."

"Edward." Hobbes soothed, kneeling beside my bed, his hand gripped mine lightly, supportive. I wanted to recoil, but his grip became hard. "I heard what you said to George."

"You listened to my private conversation? How dare you."

"Forgive me but, it is hardly listening in your grace, if the whole camp can hear. Now I am concerned you have a fever, or are ill. Let me che-"

"No." I pulled away.

"Edwa-"

"I said no! Are you deaf?"

He sighed, stepping back. I thought he would leave it there. "Edward you have a responsibility to your wife, your children, your country."

"And I am doing it-"

"No. let me check you are well and I will believe you-"

"I do not need you to believe me." There was a crack in my voice. I sat up, pulling the coverlets around me like I did when I had been a child. When Hobbes had come to see me, with my reluctance. "I want you to go away."

"Please, I am worried."

I nodded. "Fine." I let him step forward, balling my fist beneath the sheets before I swung. Hobbes caught my fist in his hand.

"Are we finished?" I nodded, letting him conduct his checks, though with reluctance.

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	71. Chapter 71

I could not sleep after Hobbes had left my presence. I do not know how much over an hour I lay, looking at the tents top before I decided I could not lay there, listening to the shouts in solitary isolation. With that, I had headed from the tent. I do not know what I had hoped to find. I do not know what I wished to find. I know however that I cannot change it. My walk had been aimless, my feet kicking up dry mud as I dragged them in the way mother had always told me I must not. I did not care, I did not want to care. I do not recall ever having felt so numb yet so conflicted. One moment my emotions soared so high I could not control them, whilst the next, I could not have told you how I felt. My mind was allowed to wander unchecked, from one place to another, from the obscene to the plain bizarre, and no matter how I tried, I could not control it.

When I first heard the voices, it was something of a relief. A break in the silent of the dark French nights. A break from the insanity of my own mind. The familiar tones of the men brought comfort to me. "I remember." Hobbes spoke, a slur in his voice I had never once heard. "I remember when he was young you know. Younger than he is now. I remember when Edmund came to me, and he must have been no more than twelve. A small lad he was at twelve, envied Edward for how he grew." Hobbes I knew would smile at that. "Edmund came to me in the night." His tone was suddenly severe, though I heard him stop to take a drink of ale. "The boy was panicked, said Edward had run away. Christ I thought he had too." He trailed off a moment. "I had to search the castle at Ludlow. Your mother, she was still at Ludlow. I thought I would be dismissed, that my career was over. I had intended to scold him."

"Why didn't you?" I heard Richard's voice now, his tone serious, not a hint of drink in it.

"I could not. I searched the castle for him your grace. I searched so many times. Every room, save your mothers. I turned the place upside down, and do you know where I found him?" I assume Richard shrugged, for he said nothing. "He had slipped the castle's gates and was in Ludlow. He had found his way into St Lawrence's. A beautif-"

"I remember it." Richard snapped, soon repenting. "Forgive me, I should not have, I simply... Well Ludlow, it is a painful topic."

"I apologise Prince-"

"Call me Richard." My brother offered, knowing I assume that Hobbes would not. My physician continued.

"When I found him, he was white, as snow. I thought he might die on me then. Your mother was ever concerned of that, she would never tell me, but she lavished too much attention on him. That was why your father sent me to Ludlow. That her grace the duchess, she feared with the circumstances of his birth, he would fall ill and die. I cannot tell you the fright he gave me when I found him in the church. Yet he was not hot, he would not speak for too many minutes, his skin was like ice." Hobbes drank again. "He was frozen, then he murmured. I could not move him till dawn. I did not know what was wrong with him, but now? Now I do."

To his credit, Richard did not ask the question I knew our brother George would have shouted. He said nothing, I saw as he left the tent, taking in the air. Whatever had made him leave, Francis Lovell must have noticed, for he too followed Richard into the night. "You are alright?" Lovell asked, a hand now rested on Richard's shoulder. It was a moment before my brother replied, his head moving, he almost spotted me as I ducked behind the cover of the tent, sitting on the grass out of his sight.

"Yes. I-"

"Hobbes upset you?" Richard shrugged, this by now would be his biggest confirmation of his true emotions. "I could make him silent, he should not have told you."

"He's an old man Francis. He needs to talk. If it helps him? Lord knows my brother is testing him." I heard the concern in Richard's voice. A concern I did not hear in Lovell's though Dickon still says it was there, that there was a worry in his eyes.

"I think his grace tests everyone, and himself. Maybe you too should drink something. Lord Warwick always said a drink helps to clear your head before you make an important decision." There was sarcasm in Lovells tone, though at the time I heard none.

Warwick? Warwick? Traitor. He's a traitor. Kill him. Kill him now. It's him or us. Him or us. Edmund screamed in my head.

"God you're righ- Ned!" Richard stepped in front of Francis as he saw me.

"What is it he needs to do Francis?" Lovell's eyes were wide, I don't believe I had seen fear like it. Not in the eyes of a human, not even in the eyes of a deer on a hunt.

Kill, kill. That voice filled my head, it was not Edmund, it was not papa. It was alien. Deep, dark, and I felt it's hand upon my shoulder, I smelled burning. I could not shake it. No matter.

"Your Grace, I-"

"What?" I snapped.

"Let him explain." Dickon's voice was light, almost pleading. He stepped forward as my eyes hardened.

"I, I-" I gave him chance, feeling Richard's hand on my arm. "How have you been sleeping lately?" I do not think I could have controlled it if I tried. With the dark voice in my head, I smirked, seeing the recognition in Richard's eyes, though he was not fast enough as I side stepped him, taking Lovell to the floor with one dive, my hand clasped around his throat whilst my free hand connected a punch to his jaw. It was seconds before I felt Richard's hands pulling, a minute before Hobbes too had joined.

"Treacherous whoreson! What did Warwick tell you that you had to gain from this? What?! When you kill Richard too-"

"Jesus." I heard Dickon mumble, pulling my hands free from Francis's throat as his skin turned grey. To my surprise he did not falter as I fought to regain my grip on Lovell, I felt a blade against my throat. "Do not make me do it Ned." There was a break in his voice. Hobbes froze. The noise I knew woke Will, too had joined us, his eyes now suddenly alert. "I mean it Ned, if you try, I will kill you and that will be the end of this."

I froze, my head in turmoil. Beneath me Lovell was still, Richard I felt relax, the blade dropping a moment, though he did not move it away. The moment in which Lovell moved, coughing as he regained breath. Hobbes knelt beside him, whispering to the young Lord as he began to move, tears falling from his eyes. I know now what made him cry, I know now that the terror in his eyes was from me. A terror for which I cannot forgive myself. Yet in that moment, with the devil screaming in my ear, Lovell began to flay, his desperate attempt to free himself from me. An attempt to which I react, jolting forward trying to grip him. A move which saw Richard act, the blade pressed once again against my throat, this time there was pain, this time i felt blood flow over broken skin, felt Richard's hand shake, heard Will's shout. All too late.

Dickon soon was on the floor, my hand around the daggers hilt as I pushed it to his throat. From there I thought the world around me gone mad, though now I know that was not so. My hand was forced back with a pain that made me yelp. "Francis, Hobbes." Will barked, holding me an effort I knew would cause him pain. That was until Lovell, too suddenly bold, gripped my left arm painfully, bringing it behind me and both pulled me to my feet. It was Will who barked the order. "Hobbes, go." He nodded toward my own tent before he and Lovell pulled me toward it. I remember as Will threw me on the bed, remember too as with reluctance he used his own belt to bind me to it. I remember the taste of evil, the smell of fire, the all consuming sense of dread. I remember as the world went black, and remember as Hobbes forced me to drink the foul liquid. Remember as he made me drink more.

Will says even now he has never seen me like it, thrashing beneath the sheets. He says too that Lovell would not leave, that his panic subsided. That when Richard at dawn came to see me, Lovell was still there, his hands wet from the towel he used to damp my skin. That it was Lovell himself who nursed me where Will could not.


	72. Chapter 72

Even now the spider spites me. I hear he clings to life by a precious thread, and yet he will not leave his half life until I am dead. He has his wish.

Damn him to hell for it.

I thought the same as Hastings pulled me toward that bridge, he steadied me as we walked a slow pace. My vision was still blurred from Hobbes' remedies. Yet I did not need sight to know he stood not far away, ready to act should he be called. Ready to forcibly remove me from the. Ridge and the throne. Richard stood behind me on the bridge.

"Welcome." Louis said in clear French. Will had mentioned it. I did not note it at the time, but Will had told me Louis had refused to speak English, that Will and Louis' minions would act as translators.

"We thank you for meeting us this way." Will spoke smoothly, his hand gripping my arm was masked completely to Louis, else the spider did not note it.

"Yes. I suppose you are." The sly, conniving arse smirked. "Now shall we get on with this? Will you not introduce me to your retinue. Whose this next to you?"

Will startled a moment. "Your grace, I am William Lord Hastings, and this is King Edward-"

"Oh, I assumed you were he, as he is silent as a mute baby. Pity, he is in truth as mammoth as people report." I glared, he smirked. "Who are these two behind you?"

"Richard duke of Gloucester, the kings brother and this young man is Lord Lovell."

"Lord Lovell?" Louis mocked. "I do not see why you must bring your pups."

"You bring yours." I snapped.

At that Louis laughed, and I could have struck him. I could. Yet somehow I did not. "Did I awake you this morning? You look as though you will sleep forever." He offered. Will pulled me back this time, for I wanted to snap with little spider neck.

"From my experience."Will offered with a modesty in his voice I had rarely heard. "Good negotiations are not made from a lack of civility. So shall we?" Louis waited a moment, his translators offering hushed whispers before he nodded.

"Very well. Edward, I am sure you have been waiting for your opportunity.I have heard you are a man who does not forgive."

Spider knows, he knows, he can see it, you're worthless, you're pointless, he wants to kill you, he will kill you, he knows.

I shook my head, wishing to shake Edmund from it.

"Then you will be wanting revenge for what passed between myself and Warwick."

I glared, heard Francis Lovell shuffle back, caught I knew by Richard's arm.

"So why have you not brought your army against me? He who is so famous by reputation. He who has never lost a battle." He mocked. "I am suspicious. What cause do you have to negotiate? A negotiation beneficial to you involves a threat to me. One I wish you to withhold. Tell me of this threat. For I think it is your numbers which stop you charging with swords at me now. Or is it that Charles, your dearest friend, has abandoned you?"

"Charles of Burgundy may have refused to support us, but that makes little difference to our cause." Will offered twisting my elbow painful as I lurched forward, my strongest desire to punch Louis. "It instead influenced us to see that we were indeed wrong. That a deal with France is more valuable than Burgundy." I had been about to object, but Will went on. "You, most noble lord, are a stronger ally for a strong kingdom. We would right the wrongs done by our predecessors."

Louis laughed, outright. "I recall another man having said thus. Does your grace recall?"

Foul spider. Stamp him out. Kill him. Kill him. Edmund screamed st me.

"No." I muttered.

"You do not? It was your father." Louis smirked cruelly.

"I believe his grace meant not that he failed to recall, but rather, that he would rather not. The late duke had many things wrong, his attitude to France was just one." Will twisted again, this time sending me away from him. "We do not want war with France when we can have peace."

"You came to negotiate peace?" Louis mocked again.

"No. We came with an army, and do not mistake us Louis, if you refuse? We have no reservations about taking France by force. We simply would rather be allies than enemies."

Louis stopped, thought before he nodded. "Your man, Hastings was it?" Will nodded. "He has a way with his words." It was my turn to nod, biting my lip to cut off my words, to prevent me obeying as Edmund commanded I curse him. "As I assume you did not bring the pups to be lap dogs I will ask their opinion. Richard, Duke of Gloucester."He copied Wills tone. "What is your opinion?" Richard said nothing, earning himself a glare from Will before Louis went on. "And you, lord Lovell?"

"I agree with Lord Hastings sentiments." Lovell spoke with a confidence that made me turn. A confidence which made me wonder if indeed he had spoken at all. "It would be quite fitting for England to ally itself with France."

"I see." Louis uttered.

So did I. My gaze was fixed on Lovell, so much so that no pulling from Will could snap my attention away.

Traitor. Treacherous swine. Father barked

He will kill you. He and Dickon. Edmund continued.

He knows Louis. Working against you. Traitor to England. Traitor to all. Kill him. Kill him. Edmunds voice grew louder and louder. Drown him. Drown him. Throw him in the river and drown him.

"No." I whispered, not realising as I shouted the next words. "I won't throw him in the river! I won't drown him! I will not hurt him!"

There was silence. Silence that felt like it would last forever as my gaze snapped to my feet. Lovell had startled, Richards hand was now on his arm as my brother glared at me with hatred. It was Louis who spoke first.

"Lord Hastings, would you explain why my translators tell me your master said he would not drown me? What is meant by that?"

Will for a moment was speechless.He looked at me in desperation. Pulled me close to him as I stepped toward Francis, my hand clenched. "Yes. Of that." He said lightly. "I think your translators are twisting my masters words." He stepped on my foot as I mumbled, words apparently unheard to our French companions. Words Will swears slandered Louis' paternity. "Can you be sure your men do want peace with England? That they know what is at stake?"

"They would not lie-"

"No? I am not saying they would. Simply I think it important to acknowledge that some among us wish to see bloodshed."

He did not believe it, I saw it in his eyes, but Louis nodded. "What are your terms of peace, Edward?"

"My terms of what? Peace?" My French was less than perfect. Louis grinned. "I do not wish you to mistake me again." I lied.

"Then speak English, I may have more chance of comprehension." Will laughed, I did not.

"I would have regency here in France. If that cannot happen? Very well, I'll march my men through France before you have had time to prepare a single sword." The words fell like lead in water.

"Good day." Louis said, about to turn when Will spoke.

"Wait!" He whispered to me then. "You will shut up." His voice was vicious, enough so that I stepped back, feeling Francis given behind me. He was only stilled by Richards hand. Will then gripped my wrist hard, forcing me to stand. Stand though I wanted to run from him. "Louis, your grace, please."

"You would insult me so?"

"No. My master is being quite unreasonable and he knows it. He is quite ill. That is why he is so sleepy. This morning, before he came, his physician prescribed a remedy."

"For what?" Louis stepped back.

"Stomach pains. And fever. Yes, he has fever." I saw the glance Louis gave me. "He is therefore irritable. I do not think the pains have subsided. So I would not anger him."

"Anger him?" Louis sounded skeptical.

"I assume my lord Warwick did tell you of what happened at Towton?" Will crushed my fingers as he heard me mutter. I whimpered instead.

Louis looked at me, though answered. "A battle of such magnitude does not go unnoticed. A blood bath."

"Indeed. And this man was behind it. Ned, did you not have stomach ache that day too?"

"Yes, I think I heard he did." Francis offered, jumping back and losing colour as I turned to look at him.

"What is wrong with him?" Louis looked to Lovell.

"I think this fever is more contagious than we thought."

Louis looked to his advisors, whispering something. "He will leave, only those who must stay will do so."

Will agreed, dismissing Lovell and Dickon. "What are you real terms?" I had been about to speak when Will obliged.

"Land."

"No."

"We will take it." I snapped.

"Money." Louis spoke clearly. "Enough to make you breathless."

"I am not a poor man Louis." I offered.

"And a marriage."

"I am married." I smirked. "In case you forget?"

"I would not." His eyes had narrowed. "I proposed for your daughter."

"Yes." Will offered. "And money?"

"Five thousand crowns a year."

"Good bye Louis." I offered, pulled back by Will.

"No." Will spoke lightly.

"10000"

"No." Will offered again. "I doubt my master would accept such a measly prize when he could take France. Do not anger him Louis."

"50000." He sighed.

"Annually." And Will added.

"Plus." Will shot me a look. "75000 up front." Louis' eyes widened a minute before finally he nodded

"Then you return to England? Without further argument?"

"It would push me on my way."

"75000 crowns up front." Louis agreed. "And my cousin Margaret-"

"She will be sent to you." I said before he could finish. He blinked twice, stammering, though he did not argue.

"I demand a committee."Louis said. "And military backing against Burgundy, or any enemy France should find."

"As the same would go for you." Will said.

"Yes." Louis offered reluctantly. "I stress, even against Burgundy." Louis looked at me.

"I can hear." I snapped.

"Who would be on this committee?" Will queried.

"On your side? The Archbishop of Canterbury."We both nodded. "And George. Duke of Clarence." I stiffened.

"Good bye, Louis." I said, stopped by Will.

"We agree."  
Will whispered his next words to me. "It would not harm to give the lad some responsibility for once." He would regret those words, more than he would ever know.

"And for your efforts lord Hastings?"

"My efforts?"

"Here today. Would 2000 crowns do it?"

"How generous." He said with genuine surprise.

"Annually." Louis added. Will released my hand suddenly. Glared at me as I scoffed.

"Well people will not be happy." I earned a look from them both. "Well there is John Howard, and Thomas Montgomery-"

"Who?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

"Both would be here, except they are ill with stomach sickness."

"1,600?"

"That would do. And Thomas Rotchester of course, my chancellor?"

Louis sighed. "1000?"

"And John Morton? What will you give him for his position on the committee you demand? George will be satisfied with the power he will get, the sense of self importance.But Morton?"

"600. And no more?"

"Deal." I did not shake his hand, left Will to finalise the plans as I turned on my heels, heading back to the camp.

  
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	73. Chapter 73

"Richard Plantagenet, you will stop there." Cecily Neville shouted down the hall. Gloucester's eyes widened as he stopped suddenly. He heard his mothers steps, heard her hurry toward him. "I could scarce believe what I have heard."

"That Ned surrendered?" Richard turned slowly. "That he threw our fathers dreams out of the window? Simply by his existence? No? Then mother, please tell me, what have you heard?"

"More what I have seen."

"Ah." Richard smirked. "Edward's shaving injury? 'Tis but a scratch, he surely told you such?"

"No." cecily's voice was cold. "No he did not say a word like that. A blind man would see it was more than a scratch." Richard stammered,Looking to his mother with sudden surprise. "You cut him, held a knife to his throat and tried to kill him."

"What?" Richard whispered. "Yes, that is so, but-"

"There is no but, no but at all. I do not approve of your brothers actions in France, but I can never justify your actions."

"And his?"

"He had his reasons." Cecily offered a curt nod. "Not only are your actions treasonous. They are the very essence of all that is disloyal. I can barely stomach to look at you."

"Ma-"

"Do not Richard. Just do not. I do not have the time for this. I will not hear it. You did not see your brother as I just had to endure-"

"Endure? Mother, tell me. I would very much like to know."

"He was crying, no, sobbing, Richard. With a gash to half way across his throat." She took a breath, Richard said nothing. "He said he wished he was dead. That no one was loyal. No one. That he would die anyway, so would it not be just he was to be dead now?" Richard gulped, looking away. "He then told me that he had lied,  
It was not an injury sustained by shaving. Rather you tried to kill him in France."

"He tried to kill Francis!"

"He told me that too." She nodded dryly. "He told me everything. If you must know the truth of it Richard? I cannot regard what he did as just. It was not. But Richard, I must on this take your brothers side. Not over you, but Francis."

"If our side is the same?"

"Then too." She nodded severely "He is king, Richard." She whispered. "Francis, he is your friend, but Edward is your brother and more? He is my son. He is your fathers son, and I'll be damned if I'll let him be harmed. I swore to your father before he left for Wakefield that I would keep Edward safe. I swore it."

"So he may act as he wishes?"

"No, but you must understand."

"Understand what? What is there to understand? My brother is a tyrant-"

"Your brother is sick!" Cecily screamed, her voice lower as she composed herself. "God forgive me." She crossed herself. "Hobbes will be flogged for telling me this I am sure..." she exhaled slowly. "Edward is plagued by unseen voices. Hobbes knows, because he responds. He responds to it."

Richard was ashen. "That is supposed to explain it?" He said, saying nothing to his mothers nod. He had been about to turn, when he paused. "Mother, you said the gash was half way across his throat?"

"Yes."

"When you say gash, it seemed deep?"

"Enough Hobbes felt need to restitch it."

***

That was how it happened, I know it from my servants who heard them. Richard said nothing more to her, he instead charged to my chambers with no hesitation, barging into the room without pause. "You whoreson!" He shouted, making me jump. I did not smile as I looked at him. "You bastard!"

"Bet, Lizzie, would you give me a few minutes with my brother?"

"What does bastard mean mother?" Lizzie asked, holding Bet's hand as she lead her away.

"I see you did not check my family were here before you began to insult me."

"You can convince yourself of that, or take it that I do not care." Richard shrugged, pacing. "Take your feet off that foot stool and lose the blanket. Patheticness does not befit you, even now. You aren't a sickly child or dying old man."

"Richard-"

"Look at me." Richard ordered, using two fingers to lift my chin. He nodded, dropping my chin quickly before he slapped me with force. "You let our mother believe I did that to you? Because you could not stomach the reality most of that you did yourself. Who stopped you?"

"Will." I shrugged.

"You say it like you do not care for the gravity of your actions." Mother made us both jump as she stepped from the shadows.

Richard looked at her with a sympathy I then did not care to understand.I simply, coldly, offered a sad smile before I spoke. "Because I do not. Except that I wish he had not stopped me."

Mother crossed herself, closing her eyes before she approached. I could feel her breath, did not look up. I did not react as she slapped me, harder than Richard, harder than I thought she ever capable of. "You have reserved your space in hell." She whispered. She frowned as I chuckled, slapped me harder as I laughed.

I don't think I ever explained why. I don't think I would have had I had chance. She did not understand,would not understand.I was already in hell, or hell was already in me. I am not a foolish man, not unintelligent. I know it is the devil himself who speaks to me. For the devil does pose in many forms. He serves to torment me with my guilt, torture me for my longing. My longing to change how things were, to alter what had happened. My guilt for my words to Edmund, my wishing I too had been at Wakefield, for the ever lasting guilt of Towton, of too many lost souls. How he tortured me for Warwick. Mother would never, could never understand that. I am too certain. That's was why I said nothing as she scowled.

"Ed-"

"You." She barked at Richard as he spoke. "You do not walk away from me-"

"Is that not trivial ma mere? In all of this?" Richard sounded too serious, even for he. "I mean-"

"No! I can control this. I will not dismiss your ill manners in the face of your brothers reckless stupidity." Richard shrugged, looking back to me.

"If you do not mind mother, I have something to say and then I will be gone. The air in here, it stifles me, and the environment? It is putrid." I scoffed, falling silent as Richard glared. "I warn you, if you ever, I mean ever act as you did in France? I will ensure you have no crown to save yourself. I will see you a pauper in the tower, I will see to it that you have no more means to kill an innocent than a kitten. Do you understand me?" I did not answer. Winced as that deep voice, that one which was His, spoke to me.

Twisted whoreson. Bastard, bastard, he knows it. Swine. Kill him. Kill him. Useless, failure, you can't. Kill him.

The floor felt suddenly hot beneath my feet, the corners of the great room lit with embers, smoke billowed from the ceilings. I could smell it, I could feel myself being dragged.

Richards shout could not drag me from it. "I said do you understand?!"

"Yes." I muttered. "Richard just, please-" I reached for his arm, though he pulled away.

"I have not finished." He growled. "This, do not think I do not see this for what it is. Your throat... you try to alienate me and worse! You try to play the victim in so doing."

"Richard." I reached again, he brushed my hand away.

"Do not deny it. I have not done. You try to take the attention from yourself cause all do criticise you, well I am not stupid Edward and I am not blind. I see it. I see your actions. If you play the card that you would take your life for guilt-"

"It is guilt! Yes! And you do not understand it. I have too much to feel guilt for-"

"Yes. You do." Richard spat. "And it must burn like agony."

It did, Richard did not see that as he growled too viciously.

Failure. Useless. Evil. Die, just die, just do it.

Fathers voice brought tears to my eyes.

"It should. Edward take heart, I warn you that if you play at self murder again, for the sympathy of others-"

"Richard, that is enough." Mother interjected. She cleared the space between us, sat on the arm of my chair, resting a hand on my head. "You are feverish, and sweeting, you are pale."

"You treat him as though he is an infant." Richard's eyes were narrowed.

"He is sick Richard!" She retorted.

"Of which, Edward, why did I need to hear thus from mother? She who does see you so rarely heard of your condition before I?"

"Do not make this about you Richard." Mother said quietly.

"He has made it about him when he-"

"Your Graces." I looked toward Hobbes as he stood. Only I had noticed him, sat silently across the room. That doctor has always had his way of blending with his surroundings. Has a way to never be noticed, unless he has need to be. "If you do not mind my lord?" Richard nodded, reluctantly. "He was not a man without intention when he did that act. I would have protected you all from it, except when Lord Hastings called me to him three days since, both were a mess. My lord Hastings I think is still hurt, for he has returned to Leicester for some days. He wrestled the blade from his graces hand, and I have rarely seen more blood from one wound. I thought for sure he would die."

"Quite conveniently he did not-"

"That is treason brother." I said with sudden clarity.

"If it is treason to speak against a tyrant king, to speak against a madman monarch? Then brother, you and our father were more guilty than I. For was it not because Henry, the fool, was so out of control in his insanity that he had to be removed?" I was silent. "He became a threat." Richard added, slowly. "Take warning from that."

He said nothing more as he left.

 

 


	74. Chapter 74

London, Winter, 1475

I had grown tired of the choking atmosphere. No matter how I had tried, my patience had worn thin, and that was why I had slipped Will’s chokehold over my life. Since I had returned from France, and had entered Westminster with heavy eyelids, since Elizabeth had been told of my predicament, I had not been granted a moments freedom. Will watched me like a hawk at each opportunity. In the two months following our return, Hobbes had tried to buy me liberty, insisting my recovery. Yet Will had not listened. He would not listen.

I do not know what his thoughts were when he found I had left the palace unannounced. I do not know for he did not tell me how he reacted when his spies and servants searched London for me with no success. No success, for I had taken great pains to disguise myself. That was why I knew, I gained the attention of men at the merchants guild. That was why as I sat beside the fire, my eyes closed as my hands were warmed by a cup of mulled wine, I opened my eyes to find her before me.

“You are new.” She smiled. “I thought I would say hello.”

“Is that not unseemly?” I smirked. “A young woman to greet a man, alone? What will your father think?”

“Probably no worse than my husband will.” She shrugged. I nodded, closing my eyes again as I leaned back against the wood, ready to return to my own world when she spoke again, bringing back my attention. “You looked lonely, and well, I assumed-“

“That I had no good company? You thought to rectify it?”

  
“I hoped to.” She smiled.

  
“Very well. What is your name?”

  
“Elizabeth.” She offered, confidently. “Elizabeth Shore, my husband is-“

“William Shore? The Goldsmith?”

  
“You know him?”

“Of him.” I nodded. “His work is renowned, it would be fair to say?”

"Your name?" Her smile was so gentle, so soft and so tender. Christ this woman, almost childlike in her innocence would bring out both the best and worst in me. For all she did not know, for how she did not remember me... I wanted in that moment both to relish in her ignorance and exploit it.

I could not help it. Could not switch off the almost carnal pleasure of knowing above all that if I wish, I could have her, and if I so desired, I could destroy her.

"Edward." My name rolled off my tongue with a shrug.

"Well, sirrah, I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Yes, Elizabeth, and I to make yours."

"Wife." His voice interrupted us. My first glimpse of William Shore, and indeed my first impression was not a good one. He staggered towards us like a bear high on beer. "We are to- who are you?"

"Edward Mortimer." I used the surname of my fathers kindred. That perhaps was my first mistake, but arrogant Shore did not note it. Instead he nodded.

"Elizabeth, come now."

"I must leave sir." She rose to her feet with a dignity more astounding than Lisbet. Her movements so subtle, she almost floated to stand. "Perhaps I shall see you around?"

Perhaps I thought, you definitely shall.

***

I was sat in my chambers, Will supervising me like I was an infant as he read his book, peering occasionally over the top; only to nod before returning to the words. It was late afternoon, perhaps it was evening when the door opened. It was not without nerves the man spoke. "Your grace, I beg your pardon for the interruption-"

"Yes, you will be sorry for interrupting my... nap time?" I laughed as Will shot me a stern look. "What is it man?"

"You have a man who begs audience with you."

"We were not expecting him." Will offered. "Tell him if he wishes to meet with the king he, as all others, are to go through the proper roots. He can apply and should his case been seen as requiring-"

"Who is he?" I interrupted.

"He did not say."

"You did not ask him you mean?" I rolled my eyes, leaving my apartments I walked the short distance to the corridor over looking the hall. Grinning. "And what does John Lambert want with me?" I muttered. "I will see him."

He jumped, Lambert did, as I opened the door at the back of the hall. He turned, bowing deep as he saw me.

"Your grace looks magnificent as always, I would not have recognised you, but for your height, for each time I see you, you are more spectacular to behold."

I laughed, louder than perhaps should have been acceptable, for Will frowned. "And you look like a fool, bowing before me when it is I who should bow to you. It is to this man I owe my crown. Opening the gates of london-"

"I did my duty." He spoke modestly.

"You also humour me. More spectacular each time you see me? Some would say I am the handsomest man in England. The wives of London love me and-"

"That is why I am here. You did not think it would slip my attention, did you?" He ran a hair through his greying beard. Eyes avoided contact with my own. Desperately searching. "Edward Mortimer. Even if I had not seen you, I'd have known from that."

"You ever were clever. Your daughter, Shores wife. Yes. She did not know."

"She suspected. Either way I come to ask something of you my lord. I beg on the respect you say you owe me, not to pursue my daughter."

"And if it does not please me to honour your request."

"That was not my request. If I may finish?" I nodded. "Do not pursue her. Not if you do not intend to take her from that whoresons house. He would kill her if he knew. Kill her for sure. He already does not have grievance to hurt her."

"He harms her?"

"He is not like your grace." I gulped, my hand finding grounding on the table. "He would not have hesitation on using his right."

I recalled the argument so recently with Elizabeth. That one where I had come so close to striking her, stopped only by her own hand catching my arm. I felt sick. Truly sick.

"Where is Shores shop? I would visit it I think."


	75. Chapter 75

February 1476

Eltham Palace

My eyes were closed. Feet bare before the fire when the door opened without warning.

"I will not be staying long." Richards voice was the last I had expected. Sounding so much like our father, he blinked back astonishment as with one swift move I jumped to my feet, breathing easier and signing a cross when my eyes set on him.

"I was not expecting you."

"And it seems you still are not." His voice was cold, his eyes dropped to my feet. "Have you lost all sense of etiquette?"

"You have grown up so fast you are like papa in every way." There little affection in that part of the statement.

"I do not think so. For if I was papa? You would never have had such opportunity as you had in France."

"If you were papa? We would still be in France." He offered a faint smile at that. "If it were my decision, we'd still be in France. It was lord Hastings who had different plans I am told."

"You offered to throw Louis from the bridge at Picquigny."

I grinned. "And you do not see the comedy in such?"

He shook his head, taking a seat without my blessing. In truth I do not think he cared for my blessing. I do not think he cared for it at all. "We must talk, Ned, in all seriousness. Hobbes wrote to me, said you are much recovered from what he calls a summer fever. A temporary delirium. I had to see this for myself."

"And what exactly is your verdict?"

"I do not know." He sighed, looked at floor. "Hobbes says you do not remember France?"

"I remember some."

"Do you remember the mistakes you made?"

"I remember as much as Charles betraying us."

"And nothing more?"

"I know of an altercation."

"An altercation?"

"Hobbes would not say more."

"Doctors." Richard smirked. "They try to cushion the blow. Well  
I shall not. This is not about sentiment. This is about politics." I said nothing. "Francis-" he broke off, looked up as the door opened. Jane barely looked as she bolted into the room, my shirt all that was covering her. "Edward, my clothes have-" she blushed as her eyes fixed on Richard, she dropped a curtsy. "My lord." She faltered then, her eyes filled with irritation as she looked at me. Her mouth moved in silent conversation with me.

"Where are my clothes?" She whispered. I shrugged. Her hand clenched and she rose from her curtsy, turning back to the door.

"Jane." She stopped, still as a statue before she turned back, defiantly.

"My lord?"

"You have yet to be acquainted with my brother Richard-"

"I think there are better times Ned." Richard began.

"Nonsense. Jane, Dickon and I, we are both thirsty. Say you pour us some wine. Mayhap you could join us too-"

"I do not think it appropriate.Ned this matter, it is of some political significance. I would not accept your wife being in this room, much less your latest doxy."

Doxy? In truth it hurt. I did not know my heart would within in months beat almost exclusively for this woman. Yet, to hear such word? In truth I felt anger.

"She is not my doxy."

At that Richard shrugged, rejecting the wine Jane offered. "I do not care. My lady take a seat, I do not care that you shamefully act like a harlot or that you are so scantly dressed. I shall tell all in front of you. If you are to be a permanent fixture at court? Well, you should know the man who beds you."

"Jane, take some wine and leave us." Richard grinned at my words, leaning back in his chair, he waited till the door had closed.

"I see it does not take much to twist your arm. You know much of what you did?"

"I hurt him."

"You hurt  
me. You hurt ma mere. You hurt your wife and your children. You did not hurt Francis. Hurt suggests he cared for you to begin with. You nearly killed him. Nearly killed him and he nursed you."

"And that is love. I remember it, how you refused, how he nursed me and-"

"You believe you do deserve better? You expect me to pamper the creature that nearly killed my friend."

"The creature?" My voice was gentle, my eyes I know showed pain.

"Yes. And do not look at me like that. I assume whatever possessed you was not my brother. I love you Ned, I am loyal to you. To that? No."

"And if we are the same?"

"Then you must know, I cannot follow you further."

"Richard I-"

"You must listen. You must understand the severity of this situation. I have let you  
rule for months now without question, whilst you recover from your summer fever. I have let you get control of your delirium and now you have returned to your senses I will not spare you. George has questioned your fitness to rule and in truth? I doubt there is a man on your council who has not. Except perhaps those who would rule through you, as though you were a puppet. Do you wish to be a puppet king?" I was silent. "You must acknowledge how far you went, the line you crossed in France. Francis has forgiven you, the lenient fool. I have not. Men put their necks in the noose for you in France, and it was not because of you they did not jump. Do you understand what I am saying?" Again, I greeted him with silence. "On that bridge. You acted like a fool, you offered to throw Louis from the bridge, no I do not see the comedy because I see the severity. He is a slime coated spider, a serpent in long grass. We see eye to eye on that matter, but if you think he is easily controlled? That he can without difficulty be made your fool? So publicly? And willingly? Then Ned, you have no mind. He is not stupid. You offered to kill him, and the significance of that? Louis will not forget it, nor will John."

"Howard? What has he to do with it?"

"You did not see as Hobbes slipped some foul concoction in his food to make him vomit. All because the claim was that you were ill. You did not see me nurse poor Jack as he spewed his guts on the boat returning home. You did not see it, and you did not care."

"You cannot blame me. I did not ask Jack to risk his health."

"No, but you forced him to it and even now you deny it. Take responsibility, for once."

"I take responsibility." He stopped, hand stilling on the chairs arm as he noticed. My head was bowed, I remember it clearly as I fought to control tears, like I was a child once again. "God you do not understand.The torture. The temptations." He winced as he heard my sharp intake of breath, crackling with tears. "You have no idea." My eyes were harsh as I looked up, but I could not have stopped the stream had I tried.

"Ned I-"

"No." I snapped. "It is your turn to listen and to understand." I wiped my eyes, watched as Richard poured ale, handed it to me. "You must not interrupt." He nodded. "These last years? They have been torture. The Devil is in my ear, he is in my head. Christ Dickon , he's trying to steal my heart."

"Ned-"

"I said don't interrupt. He wishes to corrupt me Richard. He tries. I hear them, the voices of the dead. Of papa, of Edmund, and John and Warwick. They never end Dickon, they never end. It is like a plague, but it does not have the grace to leave or the mercy to end me. I see them, the dead. He shows me, I swear, what I have done to tempt me to sin."

"Ned." His voice for the first time in almost a year held sympathy. "There are things we can do, people who can help. There is hope-"

"Hope?" I broke. I remember it distinctly, I broke. Sobs left me. Richard, for all his loyalty took minutes to make his way to me and even then his touch was awkward, reluctant. "There is nothing Richard. I just want him out of my head." I whimpered. "I want him gone-"

"And he is still there? Plaguing you?"

"Haunting me, he doesn't go. Not ever. Torturing me with my mistakes. The mistakes others make Richard? They may hurt us forever, but we can bear them, can live with them. The mistakes that we make? Especially those that cost others? Richard, they are too much for a man to bear. He knows that. He relies on that. Then he can use that to torture us."

"You say you hear Edmunds voice." I nodded. "How is that your mistake?"

"How is it not?"

"You were not there, how can you be to blame?"

"Because I was not there. Jesus I could have saved them."

"Ned do not punish yourself with maybes and could haves."

"Do you know, he told me he hated me? That was the last thing he said to me. He hated me."

"He was likely scared, did not mean it. I know Edmund, he loved you."

"If you knew Edmund at all, you'd know he was not scared. Edmund was a fool, he did not recognise danger when it was right before him."

"The advantage of being the younger brother, I know he was scared. Often scared of disappointing you." I smirked, shook my head.

"And the irony is? I disappointed him."

Richard shook his head. Not hiding his exacerbation, or his disapproval."If you will drive your self in such circles, I cannot help you. I will send for a priest. When you are ready to have this devil exorcised? I will be with you to see you through. If you do not? Then I shall pray for you, in the hope that you will be stronger than this evil. Otherwise? I hear Henry's rooms in the tower were warm and spacious."


	76. Chapter 76

Westminster Palace. March 1476

"Papa." Bess was on my knee, her arms wrapped around me, her head pressed against my chest. She had already protested to the word of her nurse that she should retire from my company to her bed.   
  
Lisbet grinned as she looked at us. Yet her smile did not reach her eyes. Not as it once had. She had not looked at me the same since my illness. Today however, she knew I wanted to say something. Expected as I lifted Bess away from me, resting her feet on the floor. "Bessy." She looked at me with her biggest blue eyes, her face pleading as she knew what I would say. "You are to leave now."

"But papa-"

"I won't hear argument. How are your mother and I to have more sprogs like you if you don't leave us to our own entertainments just once in a while?" She didn't seem convinced to leave us, much less did she seem willing. "Ill hear no arguments Bess. It is time your head was on your pillow and your eyes were closed. Now unless you wish to question my authority?"

"But I am not tired." She objected.

I leaned forward, my hands on her arms I brought her forward. "Then perhaps if I remove the sticks from your eyes, they would still stay open princess?" She giggled.

"Will you put me to bed papa? If I must go?"

"Is that what it takes for you runts to leave me in peace?" She giggled gleefully, clapping her hands as I stood. "Very well." I shepherded my girls together, hurrying them down the corridor to their bedchamber before I handed them to their nurse.

"Papa. You go now?" Bess asked as I turned to the door. "I would not demand, except I think you are forgetting something."I grinned as I saw her pointing to  
her cheek in the polished glass.

No trace of that grin remained as I turned to her. "I do not envy your husband, when you marry, for you are already a needy woman. I question will these women ever stop their nagging." Those last words I said after I kissed my daughters cheek. I had not expected to hear the voice I did when the familiar French accent filled the air.

"Perhaps when you do not indulge in the company of so many."

"Nursey?" My old nurse had grown older, her walking was impaired, her body now visibly frail. Yet her smile was still radiant, still filled with a warm love which knew no limits.

"My boy, I knew you would return to your senses. It was your lady mother whom wrote to me, informing of your ailment. It was agreed, that aside from a priest, no medical man could help you. Now I see you around the palace, and I must ask, do you grow taller each day?"

"I have not grown in many years."

"No? Then I must be shrinking. Enough of that though." She waved her hand with a determination which surprised, she insisted I follow as she hobbled away. "We are all caught up."

"We are?" For a moment sentiment bit. For a moment I wished she could hold me in her arms and I could sleep as she read my stories.

"Yes. I hear George came to see you this afternoon."

"He did." I nodded.

"And he made some points to you?"

"You know?"

"I do not know what he said, but I know enough of your brother George to make guesses." She shook her head. "Whilst you have been indisposed, George has grown increasingly hungry for power. Men like George... what was it? Elizabeth, she is a witch, or the devil herself?" I was silent a moment. "Do not give me such a look. Do you think one lives as many years as I and does not hear such, does not know such men? I have been nurse to a king, have I ever told you that?" She smiled as I laughed. "You believe him? That she is a witch?" I nodded. "Then there is a way."

***

When I entered Beth's apartments,there was a quiet. An unsettled silence I had learnt to accept since summer. A silence which implied at may spontaneously explode, or bring brimstone and hell fire down the path I walked. Beth looked up from her sewing as I entered. "Ned." She smiled.

"Ladies." I greeted those surrounding her first. "Leave us"

She waited until we were alone before she spoke. "I have barely seen you these last weeks-"

"I have spent time at chapel."

"For mass?"

"And several hours between. I have practically lived in the presence of priests." She blinked back surprise. "Dickon visited me at Eltham."

"That explains much."

"I spoke to him, at length. He is sure the devil tries to tempt me with his lies.  
" she was silent. "That the devil sends his servants to possess my soul and they torture me to do so." She just looked, a sympathetic blankness to her expression. "But it had me to wonder. The devil tempts all men to sin, that is why we lust for women. He torments and tortures all. But why does he possess me? Why, Lisbet, does he have that ability and how did he get so close? What drew him to me?"

"Ned-"

"Many men see his game, not so many are vulnerable. Why am I? And that question had me thinking. How do you look so young when you age?" She stopped, did not even look at me. She did not need to. I could see her irritation without a glance.

"I take great pains, that is how, my lord." Her last words ebbed with sarcasm. "It is no small task, ill assure you, but I thought you would appreciate, not accuse me of witchcraft."

"I do not accuse. Merely report rumours."

"Report rumours? From George? If so, I do not call them rumours but accusations. Mindless accusationsI am surprised to hear you believing."

"I do not believe them."

"No, I do not think you would believe rumours on witchcraft if he highlighted my youth and beauty. Not so long as my breasts are firm and my hair soft." I smirked.

"As long as there were other benefits also."

She ignored my words. "He accused me of worse." She said as though she knew it to be fact. My silence however I think convinced her of her knowledge. "Richard spoke with me." I stiffened. "He tells me you have seen Thomas Bourchier. A matter you kept from me."

"So I have been to mass with the man-"

"Why the sudden burst of piety?"

"I object."

She shrugged. "It matters not, I know why you saw him. Richard thought, quite rightly, I had a right to know."

"Then you do not need to understand why I saw him."

"Did he confirm it when George accused me, quite slanderously, of calling the devil to you?" I was silent. "Swines, all of them. Well Ned, I will say no more than this, if you wish a name of whom called the devil to you, look at who would profit most should your downfall come swiftly. George is capable of malice, even if he is quite without intelligence." She looked away then. "Now, do not think you are entering my bed tonight. I do not think I can look at you without gipping. If you do not accuse your whore of witchcraft, maybe she would be easily bedded. Otherwise, I do not see why you keep her."

 


	77. Chapter 77

Two month had passed since I saw Richard last. It was three weeks after the letter I sent, demanding he come to London, that finally he arrived. I did not need to look up from the chessboard to know it was him. His walk had become so distinctive after such a ride. "It takes just three days for my men to reach you with a summons. Four days for you to ride south. What did you spend two weeks doing?"

"Deciding if you deserved my attention."

"What twisted your arm?"

"I decided that your daughters did not deserve you alone with them." 

"I trust then that you know I am quite recovered? Since you make such jests." 

"In honesty? I have not had further word from your court, until your summons, and if I had? I would not have paid much attention. I do not have time for... rumours. With matters of state to attend your behalf, and all. One way or another-"

"Whoever said he was making jest?" George had become an increasingly unwanted presence l had increasingly to tolerate. "You are playing against yourself? What stiff competition that must be, given that you are so torn. Tell me, does the devil play chess as well?" I nodded, George must not have heard as I muttered a prayer, not as Richard did. In truth I think Richard would have delighted in the knowledge that since regaining my wits, I had found comfort in what in my youngest years, I may have called insane religiosity. Yet my prayers had brought respite from the symptoms. That was why when I heard George's voice, that tone that ran through me like a knife, I uttered a request for patience. If only to still my hand from striking him.

"I assume Dickon did not ride from York to talk? Nor did I ride from Warwick. So since we are both here-"

"What is the hurry, George?" Dickon offered, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I have not been in London for some time. It is fair to say-"

"Uncle Dick!" Bess's voice was synchronised with her sisters as the three of them rushed to Richard, throwing their arms around him in unison. 

"How touching." George muttered. 

"Anyone would think you were jealous." I muttered. "Girls!" I clapped my hands, gaining Mary's attention. She did not have to ask, did not have to think much on it to squeal before she ran toward me, taking a rare opportunity to sit on my knee before Bess or Cecily had even turned. She wrapped her arms tight around me as her sisters broke away from Richard. 

"Papa." She whispered. "I did not notice you."

George rolled his eyes, shrugging Cecily off his arm as she gripped his hand, pushed away by Bess as she had embraced Dickon, only to receive his fullest attention. 

"He's not easy to miss." George muttered, receiving a stuck out tongue from Mary. "Edward, quite as charming as this whole reunion is, I am not convinced you called us here to see your daughters." 

I sighed, pushing Mary off my knee, rolling my eyes as she looked with tearful eyes. "Catherine! Take them back to the nursery." Their nurse entered the room, curtsying, blushing as she looked to George. "Do not let it happen again." 

George was silent until the girls had left. "She cannot be blamed you know? It isn't her fault, she cannot watch your entire rabble-"

"I do not mind my daughters entering my presence as they did. I did not refer to that. I referred to the look she gave you." I uttered. 

"And no woman has ever looked at you like that? Of which, who is the bonny lass in your bed? We have not been formally introduced."He winked. "Did you really think I was naive enough to believe that you were playing chess alone? And with the dress strewn so... carefully across the window seat? Well, it was a logical assumption quite clearly that she had removed it all so carefully..." he smirked. "A night of passion was it? Except it is the afternoon. Oh Ned, quite the scandal, even for you, no?" He chuckled. "The pope would see the funny side I am sure. Sex in broad day light! On a Friday-"

"Be quiet. For once. Learn when it is appropriate to quite simply keep your mouth shut." 

"I have touched a nerve? Ha. Well, Ned, as long as you are comfortable trading your eternal soul for an hours bedsport? Who am I to judge-"

"He is right." Dickon mumbled. "You should learn to shut your mouth. I do not care about your whores Ned. Why am I here?" 

"We have a matter to discuss. One of significant importance." I reached for the wine, sighing perhaps too heavily. 

"I do not want it." Richard nodded toward the jug. 

"I was not offering. France." I said the word, seeing Richard stiffen. "It dug up much unpleasantness."

"Yes." Richard spat. I saw his fist clench. 

"The reality it has posed for me since... I became stronger-"

"Since you regained your wits? You conveniently do not remember how we came about the present situation?"

"I remember, Dickon." I snapped. "To my shame, now you too should hold your tongue, so as to not let passion sharpen and point it." He nodded, turning his back. "Our father, he wanted nothing more than to defeat the French. That is why I realised, that in my actions, I shamed him. Shamed him, and he still remains, in some makeshift grave in Pontefract. I would change that. With your help." 

"If I understand you correctly, you would think to finally give our father the funeral he deserves? My Ned, I did not realise your offers were so deep when you have ever been so... stringent." 

"Dickon." My tone was a warning. 

"Yes, Dickon." George spoke in an irritating tone. "You should not tease our brother! It was not stringent living, but rather necessity which made him seem poor. Our dear Ned has ever been a case for pity." I bit my lip. "Now he lives off the charity of France? Well the story is quite different. As if it is not shame enough our father died to put you on the throne." George whispered. "He is insulted by his own much too late funeral being paid for by the riches of his enemy. Not riches taken with blood. No. Riches signed over in ink and parchment, and sealed with dishonour." 

"You speak mighty fine words, of dishonour. If our father was to turn in his grave, yes it would be over me. I do not deny it. But he would have been sick with shame if he had seen you with Warwick. So do not speak to me of dishonour, brother, when you are it's most loyal subscriber." 

"Would you two stop bickering!" Richard snapped. "I cannot stand it." He sighed. "Where?" 

"Fotheringhay." I said the name of the castle my brother favoured. Seeing his surprise I laughed. 

"Not Ludlow?"

"Whilst papa may have made Ludlow his stronghold, and whilst it's towns people are loyal, he made Fotheringhay his requested burial site, moreover Dickon, he made it his home. Who am I to ignore his requests?"

Richard nodded. 

"Edmund too shall be buried with him. I will make it our family vault."

I did not tell them of my plans then, for St George's Chapel in the grounds of Windsor. I did not think I needed to.


	78. Chapter 78

29th July 1476

Fotheringhay Castle, Northamptonshire

It was noon, and swelteringly hot. I had chosen to be in absence of Elizabeth, and any other man women and child for the duration of the morning. Yet I could put it off no longer, that I had known as the knock sounded on the door. My eyes had closed, my face I know falling in dissatisfaction before I nodded to myself, sighing before I shouted. “Enter.” I rather think Will had not expected as much, for it took almost a minute before I heard the door latch lift from its crook and the hinges scream open.   
  
“Edward, forgive the intrusion at such a time-“  
  
“I am sure you mean well, Will. You almost always have leave to see me, and may interrupt almost at your will but-“  
  
“It is not me who wishes to see your grace, indeed, it is not me at all. I would not have been so indelicate as to barge in on your…” He paused, pondering on the word he wished to use. “Well your most private moments-“  
  
“It is a formality process. I have had neigh on sixteen years to grieve-“ His smile said more than his words could ever. The sadness in his eyes, one which said he did not believe my words, and could not, for he has always known me better than I have known myself. I think he knows me better than even Edmund ever did. I think, perhaps because he has had longer. “It was Welles idea.” I said rather too defensively. “That it should be done now anyway, to rest my conscience as well as their souls and-“  
  
“And before you are so indiscreet as to finish that sentence, my lord, we are not alone.” He did not wait for me to say anything, perhaps he knew I would not. “Richard Garnet is here to see you.”  
  
“And what in God’s name exactly does master Garnet want from me?”   
  
“I wished… your grace…” He stumbled, the man always had a terrible habit for stuttering; though never had it tested my patience so much as it did in that one minute. “T…th..aaaat the ten…nets ha…as… I mean… have… been se..e..et up… a…nd are re…ady… for their gue..sts.”   
  
“You interrupted my thoughts for that?” I snapped.

“N…oo… of… course… n..not”

“Then?”  
  
“Th..e.. pro..cession… is soon.. t… they arrive.. soon your grace.”   
  
I nodded, closed my eyes once again. “Thank you Master Garnet, you are free to leave now. Lord Hastings will ensure you receive extra payment… and Richard?” He stopped, I heard it. “You do not need to report all you do to me, that is why you are my master at your work. Your word holds my authority and I trust you. Now leave, not you Will, stay. Help me ready.”

 

 

When we emerged outside the castle, there was a silence. A silence of respect, that did nothing but serve to make me feel uncomfortable. No one dared speak the words they all so wanted to. _I’m sorry, Edward, sorry for this, sorry for your loss._

A loss that happened sixteen years ago, and yet still was so raw it almost burnt.

George stood, alone, one foot rested on the wall, he looked to the floor. Even beneath his hood however, I saw his skin was ashen. Yet it was Richard was the first to speak with me. “He will not talk, does not want to talk. I have tried, Lord knows that Ned.” I nodded, looking to Richard with a sideways glance. In truth, for once what may have been my brother’s most irksome habit of talking too much and too annoyingly, cheered me somewhat. Made me smile even as his hand rested on my bicep. “It is a nice day…” He trailed off momentarily as I looked at him face on. “The sun is out, and the roses look quite splendid. Ma mere had them planted you know? Insisted on it, for papa she took so much pride in them and now… well she is in London and not here to see them in this weather, she would love it-“  
  
“Except for the occasion.” I said with some finality. A finality which I realised had failed several minutes later as he went on.   
  
“Do you remember Porter.”  
  
“What?” My eye rolled of their own accord.   
  
“Porter, my prized pup when I was young.”   
  
“A rat of a creature.” Will offered on my behalf. “Scrawny little thing, blond hair like wire.”

“I remember.” I muttered.   
  
“He used to love this weather, he would run and run, I would tire before him. I would have been long in bed before he would have finished running laps of the castle. I miss him, since we are here.”  
  
I did not get to say the next words that crossed my mind, much to my now relief. That there was more to miss than a mutt. The sound of hooves on stone however brought my attention to the road ahead. The hearse made slow progress, a progress that felt like a lifetime. I had not noticed my tears until Will handed me a silk handkerchief. I could hardly look to the hearse as it clattered into the churchyard, my eyes, hidden beneath my blue velvet hood, could scarcely look to the golden trimmings illuminated by candle flames.

Whatever my intention, I struggled to kneel beside that coffin and keep composure. Papa, that was difficult, my lip trembled and tears left my eyes. How I managed to keep my voice steady as my hand rested on that coffin, I am not sure. As for Edmund, that was quite impossible. Of course, it sparked talk which I do still hear when my brothers were seen to greet his coffin, and my eyes did not so much as glance that way. For all the torment, for the pain he had caused me. For the pain I caused him, for the way things ended. In truth, Edmund had once been my closest friend. As close a friend as a man could ever had, before he was my brother. In the short years I had known him, he had been closer than both Dick and Will combined. All ended too soon, too painfully.

From there, it was Richard who took the charge, Richard whom embraced formality. It was Richard I had elected chief mourner, much I recall to George’s irritation. Yet it was only Richard of us who did not have tears in his eyes, only Richard whose lip did not tremble. I saw it all from behind the screen I had chosen to mask myself behind. I will not forget that look on Bessy’s face as I walked past her without so much as a glance. It was as though her father lay within that coffin. Yet it soon past. She did not see as I half sobbed, biting my fingers to stop the sound I could not afford for my courtiers to hear.

I watched as cloth of gold was draped in excesses, as my father and brother were separated. I watched as sermons were preached… I watched until I could watch no more. Only then did I retire through a back door and toward the castle.

I will not dally spending time to tell you of a funeral, when my own is surely impending, or of trivial matters such as a the feast, which you have all surely experienced before. I will not also degrade myself enough to outlining my misconduct, or how Will, bless his soul, spent the night propping up my head to stop me choking if I was sick.


	79. Chapter 79

Late January 1477  
Westminster Palace

"Papa!" Richard pulled on my hair, attempting to romp with me as he toddled, struggling to push me to my side. That did not stop his climbing on me as I sat in the snow. "Papa." He smiled as he sat on my shoulders, his feet swinging as they hung freely.

Nursey grinned I saw as she watched, seated comfortably on a wooden bench I had insisted be constructed for her. Her walking had become so weak and she so frail in recent months, quite beyond my own recognition until she had arrived at court if only to visit me. Her pale face had lit up at the sight of Richard playing in the snow, his clothes now as so wet his movement rung out water. "He reminds me of someone."

"You are about to say me when I was young?" I smirked.

"No, when you were that child's age, you were so proud you would not go near snow. Worried your cheeks would be reddened and your clothes dirty. When your papa tried to get you to make snow creatures, you said it was too cold. No, of Edmund. He would draw angels in the snow, and did not care for the cold and damp."

It was several minutes before I was ready to speak, thinking of Edmund. I had been about to speak, about to say something as I heard the familiar voice of Peter. "Your grace." He shouted, running toward me with urgency. "Your grace I would not disturb-"

"You need not apologise Peter."

"No, your grace. I know this is your time with your children and that I am intruding, but I would not if it were not essential." He took a breath, a gasp rather as he stopped his movement altogether. "His grace the Duke of Clarence is in the hall."

For a moment I did not know what to say, I had not expected George. I had neither expected nor wanted him. Yet the matter I knew without seeing him was one that could not wait. Handing young Richard to his nurse I rose to my feet, following Peter's lead toward the great hall. I did not need to hear his speech nor draw near to him to know from the stench of the hall that he had ordered wine be brought to him. "You are drunk." I stated, sending Peter from the room without so much as a word. George did not look at me, instead in his never too subtle ways of confirmation, he finished the remnants of his cup, pouring more. "I think you may have had quite enough already, brother, without need to empty the barrel." He paused, though did not heed me, instead gulped down wine. "How long have you been here."

"Longer than you cared to notice."

"I do not mean in London, I mean in the palace."

"Half an hour. If you are to ask how I had so much wine here, then I didn't. I frequented the ale houses when I arrived this morning. Then I was not drunk on your wine-"

"My concern was for your health brother, not my supplies. I worried, quite wrongly I now see, that you had been riding drunk."

"And if I had I could only have wished to fall and break my neck, would that be such a sufferance now?"

Whatever whit I had expected myself to come out with I resisted. Something in his tone told me I should not. "George, if there was something you needed to talk of-"

"I could come to you?" I was silent a moment.

"I maybe king and we have had our disagreements, but George I am your brother and we are blood-"

"That is why I am here. You must know." There was break in his voice. "Baby is dead."

My heart stopped a moment. I had of course heard of Isabel's illness following her recent childbirth, had heard too that the infant suffered. This news however came as shock like a knife in the gut. "Christ George, but I am sorry. How does Isabel take it? Should you not be with h-" he was silent, he did not need to say a word. "Jesus." I muttered. "George you should have said."

"I did not want to write to trouble you. Did not want to do a thing. Do you know that pain?"

There was silence between us a moment. Whatever I may have, could have said, it would not have settled him any. After almost five minutes of an unbearably still silence I spoke. "When Anne died recently-"

"She was your sister Ned. Your sister. Not your wife. You have a perfect marriage. Your wife is still alive." He snapped, though I barely noted his words to

Nel... her name sprung in my head so suddenly I winced.

"All women may be the same to you Ned, your wife, your mother, your sister or just some doxy but I loved her."

"You have made your point." My tone was harsh. "And I am sorry."

He bit his lip and nodded. "As am I. I am quite unlike myself. I did not mean it, to snap. I just... Ned. I just, I could not be in Warwick alone. It was too painful."

***

Late April 1477

I had let George stay in London, engaging leisurely and without question or my watchful eye in whatever activity took  
his fancy. It was not until mid February, when the weather held a bite and my nerves were sharp as the winter breezes that I finally suggested he return to Warwick. If only to spare him some pain. For I had seen the way he glanced at me, at little Richard as my son tottered to me. I saw his jealousy, his annoyance, his grief as he watched us play too many evenings before the fire. Perhaps had I sent him earlier from court, his grief may not have become a bitterness so tainted with malice, I could have changed the outcome of the sorry events to follow. Perhaps more than one life could have been spared. Perhaps more than one eternal soul would have been pulled safely from the pits of hell. Yet that is done and it does naught to speculate of what could or should or may have been. No matter, I had been sat with Bess and Mary in the painted chamber when Will had interrupted us with a cough. "Will?" I put the book I had been reading down, for so often then with daughters of such advancing years, it was less appropriate that I engage them in the play and sport I once had. Instead though I liked their company, I had to engage in less pleasurable pursuits of reading. "Is there a problem?" He nodded.

"You will want to hear of this, I am sure Ned."

"Girls. Please. Leave us. I will find you this evening, before darkness, and we shall walk with the dogs through the gardens, but for now resume your books in your own rooms." They did not argue as they once would have, did not say so much as a word as they rose, offering polite bobs of curtsies to Hastings and myself as they exited. "What does this concern, Will?"

"I thought you would like to hear it from someone on whom you can rely."

"Do not play games with me Will. I am tired."

"It concerns George."

"The way you say that, I assume he has quite recovered from his mourning and I am to resume my thoughts that I should be concerned even at the mention of that man. His name brings troubles."

"More than troubles Ned, though not to your door directly."

"Then get on with it and the matter can be dealt with all the faster. He wishes to marry?"

"No. That is not what I bring to you. He rather it concerns Isabel."

"What of her? If I ever hear the name of Isabel Neville again, it will be too soon. Infernal Neville's. In their life they cause me grief and in their deaths. Christ is she not dead and buried already?"

"She is and that is the problem."

"I am sure my brother George can find an issue in a creased handkerchief but maybe you will surprise me?"

"Does the name Ankerette Twynyho mean anything to you?" I shook my head.

"I rather did think that would be the case. What of John Thursby?" At that I looked alert.

"The name, yes, he is a yeoman."

"Based in Warwickshire." I nodded. "In George's services until quite recently. You should know, both have been hung."

"For what?"

"Murder, or so she was accused, and he in aiding her."

"On whose authority?"

"Why the new king of England's, or he assumes he is that."

I sighed. "The girl, who was she?"

"She was in her past the servant of Your brother George and Isabel."

I was silent a moment. "There is more, I sense it. You are not saying something."

"They are just murmurs. They are not from George himself, at least my spies have not relayed anything from him direct-" he broke off, looking as I grinned. "Is there an amusement I should see? Forgive me I did not see the humour-"

"Your spies. Oh Will. You are nothing if not resourceful."

His smile was only slight, faded quickly. "Ned you should know this." He stepped closer, lowering onto the settle without my blessing. "It is suggested that they both played their part in the poisoning of Isabel and your nephew, Richard."

"And did they?" I sounded tired. Lord knows Will would not think for even one moment I was foolish enough to believe George's beliefs, his paranoia. Yet I had my duties, to listen, to try and understand.

"I could not say. Unlikely I'd wager, but who could know?"

"Then I expect that they are too the reason Teddy is a simpleton?"

"Ned, listen would you?" I was silent, nodded. "There are whispers it was yourself who supplied her with the poisons to do so."

I was silent. Silent now with rage.

"And why would I?"

"Revenge? Malice? I am not George, and I would not like to guess what goes through his head."

Of course I knew, I had not reason to ask in truth. For it would soon become apparent whom George truly accused, myself, for certes, but Elizabeth before me. He would never drop his whispers that she was a witch, he would never for one moment forget his hatred for her. 


	80. Chapter 80

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Contains contents some may find distressing.

**2 nd May 1477  
The Tower of London**

I have never liked The Tower, and each time I have entered, perhaps for knowing the acts performed here, I have ever felt a chill down my spine. I have therefore never lingered long within vicinity of the cursed place. Yet this occasion was different, this occasion had indeed warranted my fullest attention. Too many complications, and too much treachery lies behind the route paved to this event, thus for brevity and in light of the heaviness of my lungs. Three men were within The Tower, each awaiting their turn for interrogation. Each I knew to be praying upon my leniency. A leniency I had not spared them. The previous night, when I had heard of the arrival of these men dragged to London from the safety of their Oxford residences, I had ordered John Howard to oversee their interrogation with my blessing, signed on parchment, to spare no resources and offer no mercy. Now, their screams could not be audible, though I heard them in my head. Lisbet looked to me with hard eyes as she looked up from her needlework. “Will you stop your pacing? It is quite distracting and whilst I have grown accustomed to your ways and indeed could accept it for the first five hundred times, it is now becoming quite irksome.”

“Why have I not heard anything?” I snapped. “Surely they should have talked? Surely they should have spilled their guts? Christ Beth. What more can they do to them? They have been down there since dawn and now it is nearly dusk! I swear there is treason in every corner of this Kingdom.”   
  
“Mayhap, husband, they simple will not talk. Burdett, I hear has the eyes of the Devil. Blake is as slimy as a worm and as for Stacy? He is worse than the spider for twisting webs for others to catch in. I do not protest for their innocence. Doubtless they are guilty. As guilty as sin, but you should not tire yourself with worrying for their talking. It will happen, but perhaps, Ned, they are just strong.”   
  
She sighed as I looked at her, nodding before I turned to the door. She did not have time to stop me as I reached the stairs, did not attempt to as I began my descent to the sewers of this foul stronghold. “Your grace.” The guard blinked back surprise as I reached the dungeons. “Is all alright-“  
  
“I wish to see the prisoners.”  
  
“They are kept securely, and should you wish they be more comfortable you need only reques-“  
  
“More comfortable? I want their necks in a fucking noose. I will see them, and I do not want your questions.” The man fumbled for his keys as I looked at the door. His hands shook like a man with palsy, but eventually he managed to open the door. “Which way can I find Jack?”   
  
“Your grace?”  
  
“The John Howard, where is he?”

“Left, to the end of the corridor.”   
  
In truth, he should have said follow the shrieks, for that is what I did. When I entered that claustrophobic chamber, Jack was stood by the wall, his skin pale as he watched. “He has not spoken?” I whispered close to Jack’s ear, making the man jump in surprise.   
  
“No, Ned, and what are you doing here?”

“I wished to know myself they had not spoken.”

“They have not.” He did not sound impressed. “And he has spared them no mercy. I swear, I have seen a pig gutted easier, even when the creatures wriggles and the cut is not clean. I swear too, I have heard pigs scream quieter.” I smirked.   
  
“Your stomach is holding Jack?”   
  
“Curse you, Ned.” He laughed. “It is not, in truth.” The stench of blood filled my nostrils, the heat only served to reinforce the smell of burning. The smell of sulphur which I had become so accustomed to.

“Talk, it will make the pain stop.” I looked to my chief interrogator as he spoke. He sighed as Stacy did nothing but sob. “Very well, if you want the pain, then I am no servant if I do not oblige.”  
  
“No!” Stacy screamed. “No! Please!”   
  
“Then talk, talk and it will end.” He spoke again.   
  
“I have nothing to say.” Stacy spat between shrieks. I raised a hand as Cadsby moved in closer. He stopped, though I saw a visible disappointment on the man’s crumpled features. Though he stepped back as I approach Stacy as he lay, hands shackled on the rack.   
  
“You do not know who I am, do you?” Stacy’s head shook, his eyes wide and bloodshot, fear visible on every inch of his face. “My name is Edward, and I am sure you have heard of me.” Stacy sobbed, his body shook as he did.   
  
“Oh Jesu help me! Help me!”  
  
“Shhh.” My hand stoked his hair. “Shhh. Doctor tell me, do you want the pain to end?” He nodded. “It can, why do you torture yourself so? Your pain, all pain, it can stop and that power? It is in only your own hands now.”   
  
“Please. God please.”   
  
“Do you know my brother, George of Clarence?” He nodded, tears streaming down his face, he wailed as he moved. My hand cupped his head, pulling it to my chest in attempt to comfort. “There, that was not hard. Tell me, what else you know.” He was silent. I sighed, stepping away nodding to Cadsby, who visibly grinned as he tightened the roped.   
  
“I helped him.” Stacy whimpered. “I helped him, please, please, stop and I will tell you.” I nodded, making Cadsby sigh as he loosened the bonds. “I was involved in a plot, I did not wish to be-“  
  
“I understand. Shhh.” My hand rested on his forehead as he sobbed gently. “I understand, and God will forgive you. You just need to tell me. What did you do for him?”  
  
“I… Forgive me your grace… I… I was involved in treason.”  
  
“It is for God to forgive you.” I murmured, wiping sweat from his brow with my sleeve. “How were you involved in treason?”

“I foretold your death, and that of your son.” My eyes closed as I pulled away. I had expected then he would fall silent, though he did not. “Thomas Burdett, your grace.” I stopped, knowing now the position of the man he mentioned, a man in George’s household. “He too was involved, he is to publish his prophec-“  
  
“His what?”   
  
“His prophecy on your demise-“  
  
“Prophecy?”  
  
“Predictions.” Stacy spluttered as I drew close again. “I only attempted the black arts your grace, and knew it was wrong. God, he knows I did think it was wrong, against his will-“  
  
“Yes, it is, and you should burn if you did it-“  
  
“Yes, yes I know and that is why I did not. I did not.”  
  
“Very well.” I nodded. “Then this Burdett, he has indulged in them?”

  
Stacy nodded eagerly.

I did not hear the rest, did not hear the man’s wail as I ordered he be returned to his cell. Then, then I waited. Waited days before more news on the matter came about. Only then, when Burdett’s prophecies came more publicly to light did he and Stacy end up on trial. Trial, and soon on May 19th of the year of our Lord 1477, they hung at the scaffold before being drawn and quartered. Only Blake, with too many friends in too high places, received my pardon. Only he was the one whom, despite his sins, walked free.


	81. Chapter 81

**Windsor Castle**

"Jane." I smiled, her hand was toying, stroking as her head rested on my chest. Beth had entered confinement, and had indeed been irked at Jane's presence at Windsor.

_"She may as well be your fucking wife!" Beth had snapped. "Anyone would think she was! The way she is always at your side! I suppose she will be sat beside you at banquets whilst I'm indisposed?"_

I had not tried to reassure her, for I could not. Jane for the last two years had received Beth's enmity, her silent hatred, and more recently Beth had pretended to accept her. Yet she featured prominently in any heated discussion between us.

"God, Jane, but what have I done to earn this before the sun has gone down?" My lips curled into a grin as her stroking became more frantic. "O-"

I didn't finish. The door opened before my next inhaled breath, and it took my every effort to throw the blankets over our bodies before Peter rushed in unannounced. I didn't say a word, didn't have time to catch my breath before he spoke with red faced embarrassment. "Erm... sorry to interrupt your grace like this but." He cleared his throat as he tried to level his voice out. "My lord Hastings is here, and wants to see you as a matter of urgency."

"Can it not wait? I am busy."

"No your grace. He said it cannot. I told him you were abed and he said-"

"I said unless you are dying Edward, you'll see me now."

I sighed, shooing Peter away with a wave before spinning my legs over the edge of the bed. Jane soon followed suit, wrapped in the sheets.

"This had better be worth it Will."

"George was at the council meeting today."

"He may have thought himself entitled to be there."

"He thought himself entitled to run the damn council Ned. Because you were not there to defend yourself-"

"Defend myself?"

"He brought up the topic of Burdett, Stacy and-"

"He brought that up? The fool."

"And he says you are not fit to rule."

I sighed. "He is going to become a problem?" Will was silent a moment, I sighed. "There's something you're not telling me?"

"I dragged the fucking swine here. He is in your solar."

My smirk saw Will frown. "Then he has made a wasted journey. And so have you. I will see George three days hence at Westminster. I ride tomorrow. Until then you leave, on your way out, tell Jane to return. I have not finished with her."

***

**Westminster**

**Mid June 1477**

Each death caused by you is like a world weighted upon your shoulders. Each death you witness, each death for which you attribute yourself blame is worse than a trip through hell. It torments you, it pains you, it weighs you down until like tensed threads, or a pressured blade, you snap.

As for the matter with George. The weight upon my conscience was simply too great. I recall so many tough decisions, recall in my time as king making too many ruthless calls. Yet this was to be my hardest. George knew of Eleanor and I was in no doubt. No doubt too that by it he meant me harm. Me harm, and my kin. What choice did I have?

Yet the firmness of such a fact did not settle my stomach as I vomited out of the window for the third time that evening. Janes hand stroked my back as I wiped my mouth. "Christ Jane. Kill me. Smother me with a pillow so I do not have to do this."

"You do not have to do this." She murmured softly, coming close she tried to brush my cheek with her lips. That was until I moved back suddenly.

I snickered. "George knows, and he will not rest until he has destroyed me or I make him. So I must either force him to rest, else as well hand him my crown."

"Ned-"

"Jane." I soothed, reaching for her hand, I gripped harder than I intended. "Oh Jane please, please." My stomach lurched again, I grimaced I think, for she noticed, frowned.

"Is it something you have eaten?" She looked concerned.

"Unless I ate my brothers death warrant." My voice I knew to be cold. "Then no,"

She sighed, moving away from me with sudden defensiveness. 'Perhaps it is not my place, perhaps I am crossing the line into impertinence."

"It probably isn't your place." I snapped, beginning to rub my temples as they throbbed. To think on it now, I smile, though then I woud not have. Jane said that when I got ill I was grumpy. So much as a cold could floor me, or rather have me lay in bed feeling sorry for myself whilst she ran around chasing her own tail. Doing all that Elizabeth would not suffer. This such time was no exception.

She sighed, I heard her. "You do not have to..." she paused, as though finding words she could not say. Finding words Beth would have shouted from the rooftops. "Execute him."

I laughed, though no joy came with it. "You do not understand, bless you." I groaned, looking at the floor. "He does not even insult me enough to call me a bastard, instead he calls my children bastards-"

"Well..." she whispered. She did not finish her words.

"I know, I am a fool but Jane. Janey, I cannot let him win. He must not know the truth is the truth."

"Then, Ned, do not let him know that. Do not let him know the truth to be the truth. Say nothing of it and act as though naught has happened. You do not have to-"

"He comes to court tomorrow." I sighed, slumping into the window seat, my body suddenly too heavy for itself. I could not have stood a moment longer, not even had I needed to. "And then Will expects I will have his head removed before all. That I assure you, assure myself will not happen. But there are people baying for George's blood, beyond just me Jane. He insulted many, and continues to insult like it does not matter. He is a fool, a brainless fool and none but me do see it. Jane, I cannot do nothing. When he marched into my council, when he so willingly insulted all, when he could not attend parliament for he was morning." I almost laughed, a sad, mortified and irked laugh. "Yet he can make it to London to insult the lords and laws of England and not even to my face."

"Ned, darling, you must calm or you will burst a vein." She stroked my face. "You are red of face."

Do not let her touch you. Do not. Do not. Get her away. Bitch. Go on, kill her, kill her. Go on.

Edmund spoke. His words more malicious than any he had ever spoken, in life or death, in front of me. Perhaps more malicious for it was Jane about whom he spoke.

She sides with George. Pities him, worthless whore.

"You are to bed, now." She spoke with an authority which made me wince as my eyes slammed closed and I was suddenly pale. Deathly pale she says. "And if this is the effect that the Duke of Clarence has on you, my darling, then he can keep away from London else you may not need your warrants for I myself may kill him."

"You must not, no." I muttered as she pulled on my arm, trying to make me stand. "I do not want to go to bed love, and not in such a mood."

"I did not mean to bed me Ned! I meant you need rest!"

"What is rest?" I murmured.

"I'll give you what is rest in a moment! Get your arse up." I grinned, making her stop. "Are you going to tell me what amuses you so?"

"So, you are in fact a common whore." I smirked, laughing as she opened her mouth and closed it in clear indignation "Well, forgive me, but you present at my court as a lady and then you sully your mouth with such filth. It is indeed quite indelicate."

"Indelicate?" She sounded shocked. "You use such... indelicacies." 

"Indeed, but to tell the king of England to move his arse." I laughed. "It is quite improper."

"Except I have heard the king of England say worse. But if it does bother you so much let me rephrase it." I waited a moment. "Now move your arse, your grace"

I thought a moment. "I should still hide your arse for it. Have you tied naked. You are an adulteress after all."

"And this, he who is still married, is not adultery for you?"

I grinned wider. "I did not say I would not be naked too."

She blushed. Did not have time to do aught but shriek before I had lifted her against a wall.

***

We finished in my bed, both lay, naked and silent but for the panting of our own breaths. "I love you." I murmured as her lips crossed over my body. She paused, looked up and smiled.

"I love you too, darling." She whispered, resting her head still, listening she said to my heart and breathing, as she does now each night, just to make sure I am still alive.

It felt like hours before either of us spoke. "I know what I must do Janey. I know what I must do about George."

She did not say a word. Only nodded. Her hand toying gently with the hair on my stomach.

I do not know what she thought. Perhaps now I never will.

 

 


	82. Chapter 82

Will was not happy as he sent George back to London with his summons in hand. Jane was with me when I returned to Westminster, sat as Elizabeth had ever worried beside me, though not on a throne but a chair. Her hand rested on mine as the room filled slowly.   
  
"Ned. I do not wish-"  
  
"Jane. Please you need not feel so ill at ease."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Ned." I sighed as Will came to my right. "The Duke of Clarence is waiting."  
  
I smiled. "Very good. He can wait longer." I gripped the arm of a passing servant. "Fetch us wine. Once I have drink in my hand Will, then I shall see the swine."  
  
"I do not know what your intention is."  Will muttered. "So public though? Do not make a fool of yourself."  
  
"You may rest sure that I will not." I snapped. My hand gripping the chair and eyes suddenly open as the now familiar voice filled my head. At first I do not think I paid them much attention as they insisted George is would have my death.   
  
"Edward!" The doors forced open at George's hand, the room fell silent. "You will see me now! I will not wait like a dog ready to beg at your feet."  
  
"Perhaps, George, you should. You are ill advised not to obey."  
  
"Why am I here?! I travelled to Windsor at the hand your... lapdog. You turned me away." Will bristled, I felt him as he backed away. Knowing he must be reluctantly silent until my word came. "I am not your puppet Edward to command as you please." I was silent. For several moments I gave him nothing but a blank stare. "Talk to me! What gives you the right-"  
  
"That he is king gives him right." It was Jane who spoke, so loud I jumped. "You should respect him."  
  
George spat, pointing at the fleck of saliva. "and you, whore, have no place here."   
  
"Jane my love." I whispered in her ear. "Silence." My eyes turned to george. "You spoke at my council. Predicted my death too. Perhaps George, I could once again ignore your insolence. But your treason? Predicting my death and that of my children, but to conspire with my enemy in France? All for your own gain? George, that I cannot forgive. That I will not forgive. I did not see you at Windsor with reason George."  
  
"and what reason is good enough?"  
  
"I wished to spare you some dignity. Enough I would not have you brought from Windsor in chains."  
  
"Ned-" Dickon spoke for the first time since entering this hall.   
  
"In chains?" George whispered almost silently.   
  
"Yes. From here, George, you shall be taken to the Tower of London, and there are to await trial."   
  
"Ned!" Richard tried again.   
  
"Silence! Your word will not change it."  
  
"Edward." Wills voice was shaky. "Think-"  
  
"I have thought. For months I have done nothing but think. For the love of God Someone take him to the tower."  
  
***  
  
When I returned to Windsor, my head was low. Will was at my side, Jane behind us. “You made the right decision, though indeed I think you angered him with such a performance. Indeed I think that you angered Richard too-“  
  
“My Lord of Gloucester will get over it.” Jane put in before Will had finished speaking. I remained silent, looking between them as they both stopped on the wet cobbles. The rain was pouring from the sky like a waterfall down a river. “If he cannot see the Duke of Clarence’s treason then perhaps he should be taught of it-“  
  
“Jane.” Will’s voice was filled with an affection I could not place. Was soft, tender and gentle, and his hand seemed comfortable as it slipped down her back. “Sweet woman though you are, perhaps you should not input your opinion of such matters; it is not befitting of a woman to hold such opinions. Certes not on matters of such importance.” Will paused, stopped dead rather, his eyes focused on the path behind me. It was not until I heard her voice that I turned to see Beth just in time before she reached me. She was in her nightgown, dressed inappropriately for such a trip, and still heavily pregnant – she had broken her confinement in the rain without her shoes.   
  
On any other day I may have laughed. “Edward! Edward! Come here! I will not address you in front of these….” She made a humph noise of disapproval as she looked at my companions. “I wish to speak with my husband, alone.”   
  
I nodded my approval, dismissing Jane and Will with one glance.   
  
“We will meet you in your solar.” Will muttered as he passed, bowing to Beth with a sarcasm I had not seen in him for some time.

“Did you have success?” Beth said before Will had left earshot.

“If you call George’s arrest success, then yes. I did.”  
  
“I do, and good riddance to the man. Tell me, will he be tried?”  
  
“I do not know Beth.”  
  
“He is guilty of _treason_. Ned. That is not some petty crime one can forgive. Treason, no, _high treason_ , is not something even you can, or should, be able to forgive.”  
  
“I cannot forgive him.” I muttered, beginning to walk, she followed, holding her belly as did. “But Beth, understand, it is not so easy as to have him executed. It is not so easy to cause my mother such pain, Dickon such pain or whether you choose to see my perspective for just one moment, cause myself such pain. He may be guilty of treason Elizabeth, but he is my _brother._ Whatever he may have done to you, whatever you may want me to do, it is not so easy for me to sign that warrant. So give me time.”  
  
“But Ned, you have had time to consider this. You have had years to consider all of what he has done for you and how many times have you cursed to me that if you could only cut his throat? Then you have done nothing, for you left it too long to put him to trial and now you have the chance you falter-“ She protested desperately.   
  
“And now it is different! Do you struggle to understand that? The wrongs he has done you are not the wrongs which he has done me. I _forgave_ him his past sins and yes I was proven wrong to so do. He wants more and more for less and less and he wants me to abdicate, he wants my throne, he wants my children disinherited and I do not doubt Beth that he wants you dead-“  
  
“And yet you are faltering and for what? You are a fool-“  
  
“And you have bare feet.” I murmured in lazy retort. “I am tired Beth, and you are _supposed to be in confinement.”_ She smirked, looking at her belly.   
  
“He wanted to speak to his father.”  
  
“I do not much care what he wants. George, Dick and Edward could not see me now not for all their problems. I must sleep, and you must return to your chambers.” I said nothing more, walking past her through the castle’s gateway and into the Bailey.


	83. Chapter 83

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undo these chains, my friend  
> I’ll show you the rage I’ve hidden  
> Perish the Sacrament  
> Swallow, but nothing’s forgiven  
> You and I can’t decide  
> Which of us was taken for granted  
> Make amends  
> Some of us are destined to be outlived  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> Too many times, we’ve let it come to this  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> You’ll realize I’m not your devil anymore  
> Under the words of men  
> Something is tempting the father  
> Where is your will, my friend?  
> Insatiates never even bother  
> You and I, wrong or right  
> Traded a lie for the leverage  
> In between the lens in light  
> You're not what you seem  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> Too many times, we’ve let it come to this  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> You’ll realize I’m not your devil  
> I’m not your devil anymore  
> Your station, is abandoned  
> Fool you cause I know what you’ve done  
> Sensation, deprivation  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should’ve burned when you turned on everyone  
> So step inside, see the devil in I  
> Too many times, we’ve let it come to this  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> I know you’ll find your answers in the end  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> You’ll realize I’m not your devil, anymore  
> So step inside, step inside  
> See the devil in I, see the devil in II know you’ll find your answers in the end  
> Step inside, see the devil in I  
> You’ll realize I’m not your devil, anymore  
> So step inside, step inside  
> See the devil in I, see the devil in I

“Shut up.” I murmured, earning Buckingham’s attention as he sat in stone faced silence beside me. The room was otherwise quiet, so perhaps I warranted more than one sideways glance. Yet none else did dare so much as look in my direction.  
  
_George the bloodless scoundrel, kill him, he knows and you know it. Just kill him, do it now, do it, go on, do it, do it._

“I said shut up.” My hand tapped frantically on the table before me as I tried to mask my words, an action stopped as Buckingham’s hand pressed down on my own.  
  
“Your grace. Are you quite well?”  
  
“Do you have a point, Harry?” Dickon’s voice was sterner than I had ever heard it, his eyes red around the edges, as though he had shed tears else not slept, and his usually blue eyes now darkened in anger. He did not even look at me, I do not think he could.  
  
“No, Dic- My lord. I was merely concerned.”  
  
Richard looked at me only then. “I would not be.” He spat. “There is no ground for concern. I am sure that if his grace the King is well enough to call us to court this day, then he is well enough to be in attendance himself. Shall we dally no longer?” He did not speak to me still, only spoke to Buckingham before he seated himself at Buckingham’s other side not so much as glancing back as I looked to him. Whatever I may have previously seen of the youngest brother pleased to see me, Richard showed only an aloof coldness.  
  
“George, bring him to us, now.” I muttered with reluctance. “Bring ale too-“  
  
“You will not be drinking.” Richard snapped, looking away. “I am sure you doubt you need any senses to be used during this process, but you will not touch a drop.”

I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. “Very well, oranges, else I may die of thirst.” From the look on Dickon’s face, he in that moment did not think that such a bad alternative to this situation. I had little time to think on Richard’s actions as the door opened. George could not even grant himself the dignity to do aught but strut, not strut but rather stagger into the hall.

“You bastard.” He looked at me and mouthed. “Bastard, you are not _my_ father’s child. Not of this earth, you demon spawn.”  
  
I do swear fire sprung from behind him. I do swear I smelled sulphur, saw smoke fill this room and felt it choke. Choke and I know I coughed, a rasping sound which brought concern to all faces but George and Richard. They it seemed did not care, except George may have looked rejoiced. In truth, I cannot remember clearly. All I recall was that touch, that choking hand, that force upon my shoulders pushing me down whilst a voice – one I did not recognised – spoke so deep and clear I hear it still today. Today, and I am sure it is the devil calling to me from death.

_Kill him, kill him now, do not wait, send him burning in the fires of that hell he speaks._

I was silent. Silent and drip white, so white I know I had a greyish palor. Grey, and Will ewas sure enough I would drop down dead he almost moved from his place in the jury. “William, please.” Buckingham spoke, holding up a hand. “Your grace-“  
  
“Continue.” I snapped.

“George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence.” Buckingham spoke clearly. Clearly enough I doubted the smoke as it filled the room to choking thickness. “You are charged with  high treason do you-“

“It is shit.” George spat. “Shit, it cannot be high treason when I see a bastard sat in my place on the throne. He knows it! We all know it.”  
  
“Silence.” I muttered, weakly, too weakly.  
  
“He killed my wife!” George addressed the room, the whole room. “And he claims I murdered, not executed, _murdered_  Ankerette Twyenho. Murdered her in cold blood, and he would know! How would he know it was anything but murder unless he himself was the reason my wife died. Unless he himself was capable of murder and do we not all know he is! Look at France, look at what happened with Francis Lovell, for those who did not see – Richard I beseech you to speak. Act in my defence. Say what happened and testify that this man is no fit suiter of the throne-“  
  
“He is not here to speak.” Buckingham snapped, reading the words I scribbled as Richard’s lips pursed to speak. “We are not here to try his grace the king and indeed you have spoken first hand of your own treasonous thoughts. Does his grace have word for prosecution, if he feels that needed for the jury.”  
  
“Yes. Ankarette Twyenho, she was a servant of yours, of your wife. When your wife died, of child-bed fever George, you had her hung. Her and another. Two lives needlessly lost at your doing George. You took the law, my law, into your own hands. You thought yourself above the law then, as you have in the past. As you do now. George. You thought yourself above my law, my customs when you showed yourself at my council and protested. Protested my insanity, my unfitness to rule and George, you did so when you thought me weak. When I was at Windsor, with my wife, for she was in confinement-“  
  
“Whilst my wife and I should have celebrated the second year of life of my son-“  
  
“And that George is not something I should be blamed for-“  
  
“What should you be blamed for?” George’s voice was level. “Your birth? You are not a worthy king! You are at best unfit to rule, at worst? Unfit and baseborn.”  
  
I was silent a moment. “George. I was in a place I may forgive you.” That was all I said as I turned my back. “I do not see why I should.” My voice was harsh as that deep voice grew louder. So loud I thought Buckingham, Richard, anyone may hear. 

_End him, do it now, end him._

“You foretold my death and indeed you testified at the trials of Burdet and his companions. Two of whom were executed but the third. He who was a priest, he testifies not only that you foretold my death, but that of my children in your attempts to take the throne. And he testifies too that it was you, you George who was responsible, not Burdet.”

“And what of it?” He did not deny it as he spoke, to me, eyes “You are not fit to rule and you can take me to my grave, I do not care, for God is on my side Edward and not yours. He will see your line for what it is, tarnished, and he shall damn you to hell. You are not, were not and shall not be fit to rule.”  
  
“I have heard enough.” I looked to Buckingham.  
  
I did not wait. Did not sit in that chair long enough to hear the jury declare his guilt. I did not need to. Above the slam of the door behind me I heard there words. My quill did not falter as the warrant fell on my desk the next morning from the hand of a solemn faced Will.


	84. Chapter 84

George

It did not take long for Hobbes to have me feeling guilty for the trial. Soon the verdict was eating me alive. That was why I made my way to the Tower that morning, wrapped in a cloak to guard my face from spectators, from George and from the rain.

The rain, I will not forget the way the weather met my mood. How the clouds cried like they felt my pain...

How the clouds told me the day was foul. Yet I did not seem to care. Inside, I dare say I was weeping, on the outside I was cold. I do not doubt ma mere noticed thus as I walked past her in the towers gardens. She was still, silent, as cold as ice when she looked upon me. She turned her back, and in truth I felt my heart lurch at the rejection.

Inside me was a child screaming, reaching for her. Yelling her name for her attention, her affection. Inside me, each sense told me I must call this madness off. Yet I could not. The matter had gone too far, and I could not put an end to it no matter how I wanted. How I ached to. How I hoped, prayed, wished I could. Yet I had to continue. And continue I did, past her, through the door and up the stairs toward George's cell.

I, at George's own request, would be his last visitor.

I could not forget his letter, even if I did not now have Hobbes read it to me. For I still keep it, for reason unbeknown to even me.

Brother.

Now this thing is done between us and you have both your victory and your downfall, I hope you know I must congratulate you on your still untarnished record. For truly, by whatever means, should you choose to make battle you must win. Even where there be no battle.

Do not hesitate to make one.

Unlike you, I have my certainty of what is now past between us. Of how this came about, and though you think me mad, mayhap, if you hear me out, I am the one with sanity and reason.

Do not leave me to die alone, with this matter unresolved for you. I beseech you visit before the fall of the axe, the breaking of the barrel or if I am to word it more bluntly, before you have men murdered.

Be my last visitor as you were my first, or forever have my enmity.

George

He seemed so rational where I could not be. So certain, and what gave him that right? No matter how I tried, I could not help but hate him for the blessing he had. The certainty afforded him. Yet I could not have left him alone to die when his dying wish was to see me.

Though I halted before his door. The guard did not move, did not look at me. He gave nothing away, but in so doing he gave no comfort. For all I knew, George was drunk and raging behind that door. And if he was, I was not sure I did have the patience not to end him myself.

George, when I had the courage to enter, was neither drunk nor raging. He sat alone and silent before an empty fire place, only looking at the stones. He was dressed in what I knew to be his favoured clothes. He did not even look up at me, merely spoke. "I thought you would not come. I underestimated you."

"You gave me little choice." I snapped. "Your one dying wish was to see me. I would surely go to hell if I refused to grant it, and all because I can."

"You will go to hell for this. For killing your brother. This is not why I wanted to bring you here, but rather to clear the air."

"Then clear it, for it smells foul, and then I shall go."

"You are not eager to stay, and mores the pity, I thought you may relish my demise enough you would stay to watch my lifeless corpse dragged from that barrel before you."

"I will not relish nor enjoy it, George. Necessity is something I rarely enjoy."

"Then you know you had to kill me, why?"

"You gave me a choice yourself, George. You forced me to this decision, and in truth I hate you for it."

"Why did I force you, brother dearest?"

"Do not-"

"Anger you? Don't make me laugh."

"George!"

"Very well. I know why you were forced to this decision. For you knew I was right with the matter of your brats. Illegitimate all."

"You took my law into your own hands and you exploited it. You were guilty of treason on numerous accounts-"

"And as Dickon, my favoured brother, has already stated. You could have had me imprisoned, I do not deny my treason but what is it that so eats at your nerves often Ned? What is it that makes you barely sane when it comes to me? Is it possession as Dickon says? Or let me put this to you. Is it that you know I know the truth, the truth you wish to hide."

"I have nothing-"

"Nell, oh sweet sweet golden Nell. Is that not what you once called her?" I froze. "Before Stillington. Before you married her just to bed her like a whore! And when you found Elizabeth? You discarded her. Discarded her to a nunnery and what care did you give your wife Edward? None. All for the Woodville slut you now call your wife. The mother of your bastard children you put above me in your succession. Well do not think for but a moment that the world will be naive of such secrets. You can kill me, but you cannot kill the dead."

***

He did not see me longer. I left without a moments pause. It did not take long for me to reach the air outside. Air still smelling stale before I lost my stomach, vomiting from the thought. He knew of Nell, as I had thought, as I had feared. If Stillington had told him, who else would he tell? Who else could he tell?

Dickon...

Christ, I had to hope not. Surely if Stillington would see the damage he had caused, he would keep his tongue still. If not...

I put the man in prison. For I could not trust his silence, not even after George. The tower became his home, and I rather think he did not mind.

Dickon was in the dungeons when I arrived. He said little, looked at me less. "I told mother this is not her place, no place for a woman to watch one son kill another. Will you duck his head in the wine yourself? Or do you not have the stomach for that?"

"Dicko-"

"Do not. This treason will not be forgiven Edward. It will not be forgotten. Do not think that if you go through with this I will not avenge him. Do not think that."

I did go through with it. It was barely more than half an hour before George graced our presence and with his hands bound, and his eyes open, he did not so much as flinch as his head dipped below the surface and soon, his fight was over.

 


	85. Chapter 85

George was dead. Dead at my command. Dead and he was not coming back. To make matters worse, Hobbes told me he had spoken to mother in my absence. Of France, of possession and of George. 

In truth the thought had made me feel sick, I lay on the floor in the my bed chamber, surrounded by upturned cups. Thomas, my increasingly useless step son, sat in the chair, pouring more ale handing the cup to me. "T-" I hiccuped, tasting stale beer. "Hank you." I slurred somewhat coherently. "Tommy." He cringed. 

"Do not call me that, pa."

"Do not call me that." I belched, smiling as he laughed. 

"You can be so uptight."

"And you can be a wanker." My eyes closed of their own accord as I felt my head swim. 

"I learnt from the best." 

"Arse." I groaned. "You should not have got me so drunk. It was very irresponsible." 

"I did not get you so drunk, as you word it, Edward. I allowed you to express yourself. You chose to do so with alcohol." 

"Alcohol supplied by you!" I protested, drinking the ale, putrid stuff though it was. 

"So it was." He grinned. "Do I honestly see you complaining? I shall truly think you ill if you are."

"No. My only complaint is your stringency with money." 

"We do not all have coffers as deep as your own."

I nodded, making him jump as I bellowed. "Paul! Oi! Paul! Get here!" 

"Ed-"

"Shhhh. Tommy." He winced again, biting his lip so he did not reproach me. When Paul entered, eyes widening as he saw me laid upon the floor. "Fetch me wine from the cellars. And Paul, do not tell my wife." I struggled to my feet, approaching him with a stagger, my voice a whisper as I spoke again. "She may be slightly maddened if she saw me now. It is all my dear Thomas's fault." Paul said nothing, though I saw the look on his face. The look I had seen on the face of a tavern landlord in Ludlow when he was sure I, in my naive youth, had made my even then successful attempts to drink John Croft under the table. A look which unlike the landlord only silently said that perhaps I had already had too much. Yet he complied, bringing wine to me within half an hour. 

I do not know for how many more hours I drank, until I assume in the small hours of the morning the door opened for the first time noted. 

Will froze a moment, looking at me, by now topless and sick. His voice was as loud as I have ever heard it as he made without further hesitation for Thomas. "You fucking swine!" He lifted Thomas by the collar without struggle. "You useless, pointless, irresponsible swine!" Thomas looked angered as Will forced him to his feet. "Do not even think to make a move for me! I do not care whose son you are! I will ensure you regret it!"

"I will be spoken to with respect, my lord-"

"Re. Pect." I think I chuckled. "Ha." I moved, my head hitting the floor as I refrained from once again vomiting. "Move, no good, shit." Will's eyes were murderous as he saw me. 

"You allowed him to get thus?" Wills voice was hollow, colder than ice. 

"He is capable of making such decisions-"

"You do not understand!I doubt you could begin to! I doubt it is within your capacity! Get out! Go on! Out! And I'll ensure you are banished from court as soon as I get chance! You fucking arse!" 

"I will not be spoken-"

"Then forgive me, my lord." Wills voice was harsh. His movements rough as he half dragged my step son to the door, refraining somehow from inserting a boot into his region of insult. Only when the door slammed did I look up, to see Will and I were not alone. 

"Uh, oh." I grinned at Beth as she charged toward me, almost hand in hand with Jane. She was, to my surprise, tender as she rose me to my feet. "Edward." She sighed, holding my arm as I reached for the wall to support my weak legs. 

"I think." I whispered, Beth swears unrecognisably. "I may have had a drink. Or two."

"So few?" Jane uttered sarcastically. 

"Why is she shouting?" I chuckled without control. Will did not support me, did not so much as offer a supportive hand as I staggered. Clearly too deep in cups for even he.

"Get up." Beth muttered as I fell to my knees, weak legs finally defeated before my head swam again. "How did you get so thoroughly drunk?"

"T-homas." I belched.

"Do not blame him." It was Will who spoke. "Much as I could throttle him for allowing this... you are not blameless Edward." 

"But." I sounded pathetic. I knew it. Will knew it. We all knew it. "George. I killed him." Tears let themselves go for the first time since that event the week before. "I killed him." I half shouted . "He is dead, because of me."


	86. Chapter 86

How cruel God could be. How twisted his ways sometimes were. Justice was not always sweet, he had to recognise. Things happened for a reason, they always happened for a reason. Yet sometimes, or often, they did not seem fair.

Hobbes hands shook. The mixture he was making smudged everywhere. He could not control it, could not stop the insufferable shakes. King Edward lay in the grand bed, rolling, crying out in pain. He looked ashen, more pale and ill than Hobbes had ever seen him. Ever seen, and he had known the man since boyhood. The man whom had once been so great, now reduced to a skeletal frame, skin darkening with the tones of death and sweat drenched despite the cold.

Hobbes knew, knew whatever he did would fail. Knew he could no longer do good, so what was the point? Why did he try with all these remedies when all his master begged for was death? Death to take him quickly, and not like this.

The room was darkening with the entrance of night. Still Edward suffered. Hatcliffe had wagered it would be quicker, was sure Edward would be dead by that morning. Yet he was not.

"Hobbes." The voice was weak, and when the doctor looked around, his patient reached for him, though he could not sit. Every drop of energy went into moving that hand. "Hobbes, come here."

"But your grace I make a ton-"

"Do not. It eases nothing, come here, I would speak with you."

Hobbes paused but then obliged, taking the king's hand as he grasped. "Hobbes look after my children, whatever that takes protect them. Please, I beg you."

"Your grace that is the Lord protectors-"

"I mean, you will stay as their physician. You must, I order it."

"You are not dead yet, do not think this is the end."

There was a laugh, a raspy sound Hobbes at first thought a cough. "Do not delude yourself enough to think I'll live. I will not, cannot. Give up Hobbes, give up."

As the mans eyes closed Hobbes could not help but shed a tear. Why had he sworn on that oath? Why had he sworn to do no harm when it was so much more merciful to bring on death?

***

“You cannot do what you used to your grace.” Hobbes took a deep breath, his eyes averted before he looked to me eventually. “You are not as young as you used to be, not as agile or vigilant.”

“Your point?” I muttered, lifting the ale to my lips before he knocked it down with a gentle hand.

“If you will listen? You have gained weight since your…” He paused again, this time finding the right word. “Well since your impairments have got so bad, and they will get worse. This lavish living, this drinking and whoring and gambling. If I might be so obtuse your grace? It is that for a younger man.”

“You may not be so obtuse.” I snapped, for in truth I did not much like what he said. Though I recognise now its value. “I am not yet forty and you nag at me, like I should be forced to listen. Hobbes you are not even my advisor, but the doctor whom informs my advisor.”

“When the news comes from Lord Hastings you will listen?” He sounded hopeful, though he was not naïve. “You truly will? Then I will tell him and he will report it to you for Hastings and I, we swore an oath to your father that we would, on our lives, protect you. My God, Edward, I will not break that promise. For I remember when you were a lad, one stretched over my knee and awaiting the strokes of my hand-“

“And they were vicious.” I recalled with a smirk.

“Vicious because you needed them and if I could deliver them again now. My God I would for you are quite positively being the most frustrating-“

“Might I remind you that I am King of England?”

“You might remind me you own the earth I stand on and the breath within my lungs Edward Plantagenet, and I do not doubt that you would. Remind me of all you want and it will not change my message. You must stop this lifestyle you live. You must, I cannot keep up with your tonics, for they get stronger each time and in truth? I cannot assure your safety when you behave thus. I cannot assure anything. I do not know what stronger tonics will bring you. I cannot say at all. Please, I beseech your lordship, stop.”

I sighed, looking at his pleading eyes. “It is not so sim-“

“Ned.” Beth interrupted our meeting as she charged into my chamber, Arthur behind her with an apologetic look. “I will see you now, you have a visitor.”

“He’s indisposed.” Hobbes muttered on my behalf.

“And for anyone else, I may well say so, but for all the way she has travelled. Meg wants to know if you will indeed be indisposed for the entirety of her visit or if you should both meet and be over with it.”

  
My meeting with Meg was the second contact with her since George’s untimely demise. To say that she did not approve of my actions, well that was to understate. Meg was, and remained, furious with me and so much was apparent as she greeted me, though she tried for all her dignity to hide it. “Ned.” She grinned as I brought her into a tight embrace. Though her smile did not reach her eyes as once it had. “How are you dearest brother?”

“Well enough.” Her eyes said that she did not believe me, that she could not believe me, and to her credit. There was not cause to, for all that Hobbes had said. "You look well yourself."

"And indeed I am, excepting my journey from Burgundy. It was foul."

"What brings you to England?"

"You need ask? In truth? The French apply more pressure each day, and one day I think Max will break."

"Mayhap he will, he is young. He has little experience of war or politics but he had a great advisor."

She smiled, her hand resting on my arm a moment before she took a seat, gesturing I do the same. "Flattery will not stop what I have come here to say, Ned." She took a deep breath. "I will address the matter of the French soon. But George-"

"Meg do not."

"What happened? Why did it happen? Ned these are questions I am owed an answer for."

"And mother has not told you?"

She shook her head. "Mother will not talk of it, and she will not talk of you. She only now speaks of George in happy memories, and will not even mention the sourer times."

"She forgets his involvement with Warwick. I think she forgot it even as it happened."

Meg nodded. "But that does not justify his execution, Ned, not then."

"He was guilty of treason-"

"Because he knew what you did not wish him to?" I froze. "It was no secret, the way she looked at you. The way you looked at her. Nell was unsuitable, but you recall I met her? It was hard not to notice, so when George told me? I cannot say it didn't all fall into place."

"He told you?" I whispered. She nodded. Meg has ever been discreet, her tone did not scold or disapprove. It implied nothing.

She took another breath. "That's not why I'm here. The past is the past and for our sins it is done. George and Nell are dead, so let us move to the future. That we can control. I came to England not to scold you Ned, but to beg for your help."

"Against the French?"

"Yes."

"Then you have wasted your time. I cannot help you."

"Cannot, or will not?"

"I am allied to the French, unless you forget Meg. I cannot betray Louis-"

"You cannot betray your coffers you mean? What do you get from such a treaty? A handsome pension-"

"And a marriage for my daughter."

"Ah yes, the to be dauphine of France." Her tone was cold. "And you can trust Louis? He is as slippery as a toad. As venomous as a snake and as malicious as the devil. You think you can trust him not to break your treaty? So much you must uphold your side? Ned I never took you for a fool."


	87. Chapter 87

23rd May 1482  
Windsor Castle

“four aces and King.” Richard, my son, placed the cards in a row in front of me. More and more he reminded me of Dickon as a lad. Dickon, the brother who I had once been so close with. Dickon who despite his tender years had so frequently beaten me at the cards I loved. I threw my cards down on the table in front of my son.

“We should play chess if you insist on spending time with my, little runt.” Little Dick gleamed with pride, his grin reaching his eyes.

“Please, I will beat you at that also.”

“I shall have a word with William Hastings, you know. I do not miss a trick like that Richard.” He laughed, almost manically. A sound which made me smile, I stood, ruffling his hair I knocked the cap off his head, picking him up and squeezing playfully. “I do not miss he bribes you with beer to win at cards and coaches you with chess so that you may beat me. He after all is the only man alive who can beat me at chess, he only because he knows my battle style.”

“Pah!” Dick squealed. “Put me down, I cannot breathe.”

“Because you are laughing so much.” I grinned as I put him down, letting him finish laughing and then his statement.

“Chess has naught to do with battle style, papa. That is absolutely ridiculous-“

“It has everything to do with battle sty-“ I did not have time to explain before the door burst open and three of my daughters hurried toward me. Bessy, as ever, ran the quickest, wrapping her arms around me she jumped to kiss my cheek in a gesture her mother would scold her for. Mary and Cecily were always more subdued, more careful, more settled. Girls not often over come by passion, and more strictly under the direction of their mother. At least in public.

“Papa.” Cecily spoke as she came closer, her hand resting on my arm. “We brought you a gift. We made it-“

“ I made most of it.” Mary spoke, with a slight cough.

“Mary?” My voice was soft as I broke away from my other girls, approaching her, my hand rested on her brow. “You look feint, and clammy, and my god you are boiling up. You do not sound well.”

“It is nothing father, likely women’s issues.” I was not convinced, should have known in an instant I was not. I will likely never forgive myself for not trusting that inner judgement. Instead of shouting for Frise to attend her in an instant, I nodded, stepping away as though the concern was not mine to have. Bess handed me the tapestry coverlet with a smile wide on her face.

“Thank you my girls-“

“Papa and I were just playing cards.” Richard stated. “Would you all like to play also?”

It was not long after the game had commenced my worry returned. Mary had begun to lose colour, from pale to greyish around the lips. “Mary?” I stood as her hands went to her stomach, the cards clutched in her hand now strewn on the floor. “Mary, sweetheart?”

“I do not worry, father, do not fuss.” Her tone was stern. “I must just go and rest, I feel queasy.” She stood for only a moment before her eyes rolled back and I had to catch her. “Papa.” She whispered before she coughed, flecks of blood on her lips before it spilled over and only my shirt.

“Frise! God damn it, Richard, fetch the doctors, now!” I lifted Mary into my arms, kissing her head before I looked to her staring sisters. “Leave us, now.” I hurried then toward the bed chamber, Mary crying in my arms.

“Papa, I’m sorry, so sorry. I do not feel well, not at all.”

“Hush, sweetheart, it is not your fault. Doctor Frise is coming, he will help.” I did not pause as Frise entered with his assistant, turning to the younger man as I laid Mary in the bed, not noticing how small she looked. “Go into London, fetch William Hobbes, and doctor de Serego. I want them both, now.”

“With respect your grace, too many cooks spoil the-“

“God damn it Frise! This is my daughter! Not some damned broth! If I say I want every doctor in England I expect they would all flock here, do you understand me?”

“At least she does not need a woman’s doctor, sir, not one that specialises in women’s matters that is, it is naught to do with that. I have often seen women’s suffering and it comes in many forms but not this, not this. Hobbes, I’d accept, for a surgeon-“ he did not continue as he saw my look, my lack of attention, he saw my eyes fix on the child writhing in my bed.

“I do not care, just save her.”

He did not say the words Hobbes would have, he did not know me well enough to speak so boldly. In truth I do not think he wished to tell me, did not want to believe it. Mary, for her tender years, was ever such a pleasant child. A loved daughter, and adored princess. Mary, though always straightened by Beth’s own hand, was often seen giving gifts to the poor, giving alms and sharing pleasantries, though Beth always frowned upon it, had often been seen dallying with common children in the palace grounds. I do not think a bad bone rested in her body, and she did not deserve it.

One cannot blame Frise for his silence, not whilst he worked with the physician Hatcliffe and later my own Hobbes. As they bled her and offered simples, remedies. As they fought to ease her suffering, and fought to keep breath in her lungs. I do not recall how many times Hobbes demanded I leave, in truth I cannot remember. Pain, numbness spread through all of me as I watched her skin turn from white to grey, saw the discolouring, saw the pain. I was there when all hope failed, there holding her when finally her breaths stopped. 


	88. Chapter 88

Fotheringhay   
Mid June 1482

"You look like shit." Richard frowned as he looked me over. "You need to live more carefully. You look hagged and Ned you grower fatter each time I see you."

"Maybe that is no concern of yours." I snapped, biting my lip eventually. "Sorry, Dickon, that was uncalled for, I know you mean well. Since Mary-"

"Yes, I am sorry indeed of this situation. So sudden." I nodded. "You still look ill, your skin has a greyish parlour and Ned, your eyes are inflamed, reddened. Like you have been crying, else have not slept."

"I have not slept. You arse, I was riding here through the night." I grinned.

"You did not rest?" He looked astonished.

"No. Rest is for the weak Dickon, you well know this."

"Mary's death is paining you more than you care to admit."

Of course, he was right. Jane had been unable to comfort me, and Beth did not want to. Even Will who had made the closest attempts to help me had failed with a frown upon his face. All the same, it happened. How frequently did I hear of common mans children dying at fifteen, and yet, how it seemed God was not merciful.

Forgive me my blasphemy lord, but the way you test us.

"Mayhap, but I was eager to see you. To discuss what we must."

"Yes." He muttered, pointing at the chair opposite him. "Are you going to sit or stand over me like a pillar?"

"I prefer the second." He laughed, nodding at the chair where I soon sat. "The Scots."

"Arseholes." Dickon shrugged with a smirk.

"Yes, thorns in my side each-"

"The rose of York with a thorn in his side, forgive my laughing Ned, but the pun is not lost upon me."

"Then they are a pain in my arse, a headache I cannot rid myself of, a-"

"Your point is adequately made. They are giving England trouble-"

"Trouble? They threaten the border, damn them. Why can they not just know their place and keep the hell away?"

"Because then we would have, as Englishmen, a responsibility to pursue them anyway."

I grinned. "You may think so-"

He shrugged again, this time his smirk was more subtle. "You would just make a pension agreement with them and be done."

"No one regrets France as much as I, I assure you." He just nodded. "We should prepare for war against the Scots Dickon, muster men. You and I shall march against them."

"You?" He looked at me in wide eyed surprise. "Shall-"

"Is there a problem Dickon?" I saw his glance as he looked me over, saw him gulp before he shook his head.

"The victor of Towton, Mortimers Cross, Barnet and Tewkesbury, why should I doubt you?"


	89. Chapter 89

Late December 1482  
Windsor Castle

He would have been right to doubt me. Would have been accurate. I had failed, though I rode out of London with an army for Richard, though we marched together as far as Northampton, I had been forced by Will to turn back. Forced by ill health and worse weather. I cannot say I did not feel as though I failed. That was why when Richard returned, I had ensured he had proceeded into London with all the splendour due.

All the splendour, except I was not waiting in the ermine bordered robes I had intended. Instead of being ready to greet him on the stairs of the Abbey, where I had known he would visit to pay respect to God, I had been confined to my bed chamber. For the second visit to London I was confined away, feet rested on hot coals to combat the cold.

"Ned." He had charged into the chamber, shortly after noon. When he looked at me his face changed from a smile to a frown. Concern furrowed his eyebrows and he hurried toward me, kneeling by the chair, his hand rested on mine.

"Don't worry." I muttered, quite without feeling. "I am fine, just cold, and hungry. So hungry my chest hurts." I tried to grin but instead winced. "Oh stop, I can feel your worry in your tenseness. I am not like to break. To word it as you did, Dickon, I am getting fat and have you seen a man as great as I break?"

"No." He smirked. "But I have not seen a man as great as you."

"Oh stop." The smile played on my lips. "Bessy." I waved a hand to beckon her forward, outstretched my arms and brought her into an embrace. "Sweeting, ask Peter to fetch some sweetmeats from the kitchen for yourself and your sisters, some for your brothers also-"

"Edward is here?"

"But of course." I grinned. "And he is a strapping lad already. You will see. Bess! Wait. Ask Arthur to come to me, and John!" I waited till the man emerged. "Take my brothers cloak and ensure his men, whoever he may have with him, are kept in comfort."

"Yes your grace." John bowed.

I stood on shaking legs. "Ned?" Richard offered an arm as one of my hands shot to my chest, the other to the chairs arm.

"It is nothing, I am just hungry, I have said." I waited until the door closed behind my child and servant. "The French marriage situation, you have heard of it?"

"That Louis sold you out for another marriage? How is Bess?"

"She takes it hard." I perched on the chair arm, massaging my chest with two fingers, only to find the pain would not dull. "Of course she does, she thinks it is her fault. Somehow. That he thinks she is not chaste, like my daughter would be aught but a virgin"

"Like her father? Ned have you thought that your own reputation may indeed be part of her worries?"

I sighed. "No. I doubt that. Though Dickon, do not mention this situation to her. She feels she has failed me, failed England. Of course I have told her she has not, but she does not listen always."

I sat, my hand rested on my chest as I panted.

"You should call for a doctor. Chest pain they tell me is never a good sign."

"It is exertion Hatcliffe tells me, hunger Frise insists. These physicians they do not know what it is, good omen or bad."

"What does Hobbes think?"

"That he does not know." I laughed. "He does not know my every affair. Now come, let us have lunch and ride out to hunt."

***

Richard had protested. Insisted that we should not to no avail. After a rich lunch we had indeed headed to the stables, my sons Arthur, Edward and Dick at our trail. "It is not the finest season for hunting I'll say, but maybe we will catch a deer unaware. Or a pheasant out of hiding. I do not care if we catch nothing at all." I spoke to the boys. "Is it not good to live a little? It has been so long since I have hunted."

We reached the stables to our mounts awaiting. I spent what must have felt like an eternity helping my sons mount, ensuring Richard was settled in the saddle before I mounted Monty to yet more pain, taking the reins I led the procession into the Bailey and down toward the gatehouse. We had not left the castle when it happened. I recall seeing Dickon's eyes widen before it all went black.

"Papa!" Arthur's voice was clear, Edward's beside him. Pain shot through me deeper than the blackness. "Papa, please." Edward shook me, hard. "Papa."

"Move!" Dickon's voice was harsh, I felt my head cushioned beneath knees. "Arthur fetch Hobbes, now. Richard, grab his cloak." I felt the wool fall over me. It was then my eyes opened and light flooded in. "Ned? Jesus but you gave us a scare. Your eyes rolled back and you fell from Monty, he nearly trampled you." The pain in my chest was dull, sharp down my arm.

"Dickon, I-" I winced.

"Sh. Hobbes is coming." I only nodded, still on the floor when Hobbes arrived a lifetime later.

"What happened?" The doctor asked, kneeling beside me, his hands rough as he examined me.

"He fell from his horse." Edward started. "His eyes rolled back and-"

"He was complaining of pain, in his chest. I told him we should wait back, speak with you. He did not agree." Dickon interrupted.

"It is never a good omen in my experience. Your grace, are you still pained?" I nodded. "Help me take him inside, my lord."

"Do you know-"

"I suspect it is his heart. But I will not know until we have him returned and I can examine him further."

"His heart?" Dickon stammered, looking at me with sympathy.

***

"Yes." Hobbes said as he moved his ear away from my chest, his hand away from my neck. "His heart is irregular." He bit his lip as he looked at Richard. "He is not well, your grace. Not well at all." I moved, forced myself to sit, moving in my attempt to bring the physicians attention back to me. "I do not know what to prescribe. This is a new area, well it has always happened before but treatment... well it is limited your grace. For your brother, well bleeding will not work."

"Look at me." I spoke, though Hobbes did not listen.

"Not will simples nor remedies. Losing weight if you can encourage him-"

"Is he like to die?" Dickon I interrupted, not looking toward me as I sighed.

"No but he must be monitored and-"

"I said look at me!" Hobbes stopped, turning his attention back to me. "Christ can you not tell me what is wrong? Am I suddenly an imbecile?"

"No my liege, I simply did not want to cause you stress in your condition-"

"My condition?" I scoffed. "That is what I say to Beth when she is with babe."

"Your grace." Hobbes sat on the edge of my bed. "You have had, I suspect, what today we call a heart attack. Do you know what that is?" I sighed, waving a hand for him to continue. Affirming my lack of knowledge. "Your heart is under great strain, and I cannot say for sure why, but it is not working as it should. I do not know, sire, but I think it is in part Louis of France's fault, for he has caused you much stress. Much reason to be sick."

 


	90. Chapter 90

4th January 1483  
  
She slapped my hand as I reached for sweetmeats. "No, he will not have that." She spoke to the servant on my behalf, pushing the plate away with the back of her hand, smiling at me as I sighed.   
  
I clicked my fingers, pointing toward the cup before me. "I live as I have always lived, and what use is there in changing now?"  
  
"You are a father, a son, a brother, a husband and you are King of England. You have a responsibility, Edward."   
  
"Beth-"  
  
"I will not change my mind. You must live more carefully and Hobbes has told you."   
  
"Hobbes tells me many things-"

"And one of us listens." She sounded haughty, putting her hand over my cup as the jug was lifted to it. She smiled to the servant. "Thank you."   
  
"Christs sakes woman, some days I could do without you."  
  
"Some days you do." She bit her lip, her foot stepping gently on mine as the young man approached. Francis Lovell doffed his cap as he bowed before us.   
  
"Your graces, my lord." He nodded to Hastings beside me, then smiled at Richard beside Beth. "I came over for I wished to thank you, your-"  
  
"Edward." I smiled. "We have often got off on the wrong foot, I thought your excellence should at last be recognised." He looked concerned as I winced. This time I was successful in my attempts to refill my cup, drinking half in two gulps much to Beth's clear displeasure. "Help yourself to wine, and please my lord Lovell, do whatever it takes to make my court your home."

“I thank your grace, Edward:" he corrected at the end, readjusting his cap as he stood tall.   
  
"Frank." Richard waved his hand for Lovell to approach the table, muttered in almost silent words. I watched them over the brim of my cup as I drank, saw the laughter but heard little. My stomach ached, felt unsteady inside of me. "Ned?" Richards voice cut into me, though I did not look at him, dropping the cup instead as I stood, half running toward the screens behind with Elizabeth and Richard on my trail. It was not dignified that both should see me vomit, though Richard handed me his kerchief.  
  
"I told you." Beth muttered, rubbing my back as I wiped my eyes then my mouth. "I told you enough, but you did not listen." Will was there as I looked around, his face white with concern.   
  
"I am fine." I whispered, convincing none including myself. "I just feel sick."   
  
***  
  
  
  
Late March 1483  
  
  
Sick indeed was the correct words. Though I did not see how much that was true for several months. Arthur was beside me, talking as he so often did. The cold still within me remained from the previous day. Jane was not far behind, trying desperately not to show her concern as I walked slowly down the long, cold corridors. "You are alright, papa?"   
  
"Hm? Oh, yes, cold. Just cold."   
  
"It is not unseasonably cold and you are wrapped in furs-"  
  
"Art." Jane spoke quietly, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Come let us go first into mass. Papa will catch up." She smiled back at me, blowing a kiss in my direction before she leaned in to speak with Arthur. "Papa is not well, he does not have the patience for all this talking and it does not matter how much fur he wears he-" they slipped out of my hearing as the doors closed behind them.   
  
Mass was at first uneventful, the same words, the same voices, the same movements. That was until I stood, ready to take my steps toward the altar when my vision blackened, my head hitting the floor in seconds.

"Move! Now! Move!" Frise shouted, I felt his robes rub my arm as he knelt beside me. "Your grace? You can hear me?"   
  
"Is he breathing? Has he choked on his tongue?" Hatcliffe whispered before his hand grew close to my face. "He is breathing, roll him onto his back." My eyes fluttered open. "Your grace-"  
  
"My chest hurts." I whispered, coughing.  
  
"No, do not move." Frise spoke, putting his hand on my shoulders as I tried to sit. "Lord Hastings, my lord Dorset." Will tells me he pointed at two others. "Okay, on three. One. Two. Three. Lift." I felt as they carried me to the sickroom, though my vision was impaired. Felt as Frise drained blood from my arm, though already I struggled to see the point of purpose of such actions. Already I had begun to see it as futile.   
  
***   
  
"Papa!" Bess shouted from across the painted chamber when she saw me from bed and dressed my finest the next day. "What are you doing out of bed?" She scolded. "Hmm?"  
  
"I felt better." I smirked as though I was once again being scolded by nursey for some minor misdemeanour. In truth I did not mind Bess scolding. I did not mind at all. She approached with a half run and flung her arms around me, kissing my cheek.   
  
"You are a pain, causing us to worry like that."  
  
"I could hardly help it Bessy."   
  
"Frise says you had a fit of apoplexy, that which plagued the French king."  
  
"A pox on that swine." I spoke sulkily, my hand shaking as it never had before as I sighed my name with difficulty on the parchment before me, handing the sheet to my secretary for action. Will sat across the room, and I could see the worry on his every feature. "You see Will?" She nodded. "He thinks I may drop dead any moment, can you see? He does not see the worst is behind us. Do not become like him sweet Bess. He will drive himself half mad with worry if I let him.   
  
***  
  
"Edward, please." The next day came and I still felt well. That was why I had chosen to dine with my family. Dine both well and heartily. That was why Beth complained as I indulged in my second helping of food. "Do you not listen at all?"  
  
"Listen to what my dear?"  
  
"Your doctors. Three of your most trusted physicians tell you you must eat less and live better for your heart account take all of this, and yet you deny their every word to be truth. You live in ignorance of their advice and by your own rules. You live as you please and it will be the death of you. I cannot see that, so if you live thus? You are as well to consider it that we are estranged."   
  
My hand stilled at that.   
  
"If you still love me at all Ned, then you will not deny me this. The love I bear you is too strong for this. I will not sit idle, but lord knows it I have tried."   
  
I bit my lip, pushing away the plate. "You are right Beth. I am sorry, I have lived too lavishly and I can make some cut backs I do think."


	91. Chapter 91

9th April 1483  
Fluid had entered his lungs, Hobbes could hear that in the croaky breaths. The man did not have long, hours he had deduced. His eyes barely fluttered open now and his fever raged harder than before, his body now victim to a plague of fits and sweats. “There are no more simples I can give, your grace.” He spoke to Elizabeth. “Every resource I have is used, every remedy exhausted. There is nothing I can do but prey that God does not let this happen.”

“He will.” Elizabeth muttered. “He will let this happen because he must. It is his intention, whatever cruel mercy this is supposed to be. It is his intention that my husband should die to let my son be king. Yes, but he is not ready. He is just a boy. I have preyed to God so many times, Hobbes, and it serves no avail. I would not trouble yourself with trying, unless it does bring you comfort. All of England has preyed for him and yet…” She clung to her husbands unmoving hand.   
“Beth.” He whispered, a small smile on his face as his eyes fluttered open. “Always beautiful.” That was when she lost composure. Tears left her eyes. The last two days he had been delirious. Calling for Edmund, for his father, speaking to those he could not have seen. In deep conversation with the brother that died at Wakefield too many years ago now. Back in his childhood at Ludlow, then panicked as he was plunged into whatever nightmare shook him. She had not expected his words, had not expected his fondness after all these years, after so much. “I failed you.” He muttered, now gripping her hand in return. “You must know, must know there was a reason.” He choked, winced and returned to speech once his breath had been caught. “A reason why George had to die.”  
“Hush my love, you must save your energy.”  
He shook his head, letting go of her hand. “Listen.” He said, too clearly battling pain he could not manage. “George had to die because… I married before you.”

“What?” She bit her lip.  
“I married before you. She was not yet deceased in 1465.”

“You are delirious, mad.”

He shook his head. “No, no I am not.”  
“Hobbes, tell me he is mad? As mad as when he made that will.”  
The doctor said nothing, indeed he did not move.   
***  
30th March 1483  
“One, two, three, one, two, one, two.” I stepped with her. Bridget’s hand was in mine as she took her first dance steps slowly with me. Hobbes still kept a watchful eye, but even he had to admit it seemed the worst was behind us. My health seemed to be improving and I was well enough to engage merrily with my children. On the odd day I was abed, my feet propped up by hot coals as fevers took a hold, but Hobbes had said that was to be expected of a man in my condition, that it was naught to worry about. So worry I did not.   
“Two, two, three, four.” She replied. Taking the wrong steps but with glee. 

“You’ll get there lass.” I grinned, lifting her into my arms with effort.   
“Your grace should not.” Hobbes interrupted as he stepped forward, he had become an ever present annoyance who could not be ignored. “Exertion in your condition is not-“

“Do not be a spoil sport always. You have forbade my bedroom activities and I have listened. Have limited what I eat, and I have listened. Do not limit this as well.” 

Bridget was smiling as she clung to me, a smile reciprocated until Hobbes spoke again. “Your grace, Frise has prepared your simple and-“

“Why must I take potions and tonics and foul remedies. It seems to be all I do.” I did however outstretch a hand for the bottle, but did not have time to drink before the pain returned, this time my hand went to my chest, this time I felt the impact of the floor as I hit it. Pain seared through my chest. 

“Move. I said move.” 

***  
9th April 1483.   
John Howard did not know what to say as he touched his friends arm. Ned had ever been a friend, a close friend, a true friend. Even when he had betrayed John’s trust, even when he had wed his son to Anne Mowbray, even then. John had never felt his love for Ned diminish. Never too did he think it would. He had watched for days as this great man’s life slowly ebbed away. Watched as he grew weaker and weaker and more delirious per day.   
“Ned?” He leaned forward, reaching out to the man in the bed as his eyes opened. 

“Angels are coming, Johnny. I see them. They are not coming for me. I am sure the fire is burning.” 

“It is Ned, it is-“

Edward smiled, shaking his head. “The devil is in the corner. He comes for you or for me.”

“Oh Ned. Do not-“

“I have sinned too much Johnny. Sinned, and you are not here, you are dead. Angels escorted you here and you have come to torment me, swine.”

“Ned.” John Howard sighed, watching as his friend closed his eyes once more, his breaths gorwing more raspy with each movement. It was ten minutes before those fading eyes opened again. 

“Howard, I should have thought to see you here.” His voice was weak. “Where is Will?”

“He could not face it.”   
Edward nodded. “I trust you both, you know that?”

“Of course.”

“I trust you both make sure that my sons are protected. Make sure Edward rules fairly, he is so weak, so vulnerable. He is a child. I did not intend it would be this way. I did not intend it at all.”   
“Ned he is loved, he will be protected.” 

Edward nodded, eyes closing for the last time. John heard him mutter, heard the words Edmund, papa, saw him reach for nothingness before he grew still. John sat upon the bed, wiping his Kings brow as sweat soaked it. Sat for close to an hour before that final breath left his lungs.


End file.
